


A Rose for the Courier

by Matman0187



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-04-09 02:53:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4331061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matman0187/pseuds/Matman0187
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A raider attack on Cassidy Caravans leaves Cass' life in shambles. Everything she's spent her entire adult life building is gone, just like that and she's helpless to do anything about it. That is, until she meets a stranger who offers her a chance at retribution. </p><p>Cass' journey with the Courier, told from her point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Courier 6

Rose of Sharon Cassidy been stuck in this miserable pit of a border station for weeks, ever since her caravan had been wiped out and burnt to ash by raiders. Everything she had spent so many years of her life building, created from nothing through her own blood, and sweat, but not so much the tears. Her employees, her people, her friends, no, her family, shot down like animals within eyeshot of the walls of New Vegas, and where was she? Trapped here at the NCR border, trying her damned hardest to drink herself into an early grave. She didn't know how she could write back to California, to their families. How she could explain to them that their loved ones were dead under her watch and that she couldn't even arrange to have... what little remained of them, returned home.

The shithead of an NCR clerk that broke the news to her told her that her Caravan had been burnt to ash, and that the fuckers who did it hadn't even bothered to steal the goods they were transporting. He then told her that with the war with the Legion, and the constant raids by fiends from Vault 3, the NCR wouldn't be able to spare the manpower and resources for an investigation. It wasn't the shitty, life ruining news that pissed her off, that was beyond the man's control, it was the way he relayed it to her. It was the man's indifference to the whole matter, how he was aloof and uncaring. He treated it like it was just another pain-in-the-ass chore that he shouldn't have to waste his _oh so valuable_ time with. It took nearly every ounce of self control she had not to break the prick's jaw.

Almost as bad as the helplessness was the sheer mind numbing boredom. Her caravan papers were what kept her stuck here, inefficient NCR bureaucracy and all that bullshit. Plus that pissant Ranger Jackson wasn't letting any caravans through until the road to Vegas was cleared. So as long as she was the owner of Cassidy Caravans, she wouldn't be able to step foot past those egotistical monstrosities they called statues that marked the border. The place was over garrisoned by the NCR so there was certainly no shortage of people, but all of them were a bunch of boys fresh out of training and barely old enough to shave. Not really the kind of crowd that Cass typically ran with. The other NCR were rangers who had their assholes clenched so tight that they wouldn't know a good time if it walked up to them and knocked their teeth out. There were a number of caravans stuck at the Mojave Outpost like she was, a lot of them were just limpdicked lightweights who couldn't keep there liquor down, but others were different, tough and well traveled. Some of them had some pretty good stories to tell, and others looked like they might not be half bad in the sack, but for once, that was the last thing on her mind. 

The sun was hanging low in the sky as she gulped down the shot of whiskey in an instant, slamming down the glass onto the counter with a sigh. "Another." she demanded, tossing a couple caps down in front of her. Lacey, the barkeep, gave her a pitiful look but took the money and poured her another shot of whiskey before going to tend to another customer. She gulped that one down as fast as the first and wiped her lips with the sleeve of her leather jacket. Her straw hat sat on the stool next to her. _Heartaches by the Number_ blared over the radio, as though whatever pre-war musician who wrote the song had done so specifically to taunt her some three hundred years in the future. The song ended and Mr. New Vegas' familiar drawl replaced the music with the evening news.

_"And we're back. This is Mr. New Vegas and I feel something magic in the air tonight and I'm not just talking about the gamma radiation. In tonight's news, a package courier found shot in the head near Goodsprings has reportedly regained consciousness and made a full recovery. Now that is a delivery service you can count on."_

With that, the music came back, playing  _Blue Moon_. "Well, at least I'm not the only one with shit luck." Cass chuckled to herself humorlessly.

The sound of the door to the barracks opening made her look up instinctively. A trio of NCR troopers strolled in laughing over some shitty joke one of them told, and she started to turn back to her drink when a flash of blue caught her eye.

An honest to God Vault Dweller stepped into the tavern, Vault Suit, Pip-Boy and everything. His vault-suit was modified with extra padding and a shoulder pauldron for extra protection, as well as a bandoleer filled with rounds. Looped around his waist was a belt with a holstered .357 Magnum revolver and strapped around his shoulder was a repeating rifle and a pack full of supplies. He turned away from her slinging the rifle and pack from his shoulders and she could see the number _21_ sewn in bright yellow letter on his back. Cass vaguely remembered that Vault 21 was the Vault that was built directly on the New Vegas Strip. She found herself wondering what a city boy was doing all the way out here in the middle of nowhere when the vault dweller caught her eye and smiled. 

"I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no. I'm not from a Vault."

Cass' face flushed, partly from the booze running through her blood, partly from embarrassment at being caught staring. The ' _Not a Vault Dweller'_ strolled over and looked down at the stool which held her hat. "Is this seat taken?" 

"Uh... no, I guess it's not." she said, grabbing her hat and dropping it to the ground at her feet, before running a hand through her auburn hair. He took the seat and she got a good look at the man's face. He looked to be about thirty, give or take a few years. His hair was a shade of dark brown, nearly black, his eyes were a deep shade of hazel and his face could use a shave. He looked like somebody who'd wandered the wastes for many years. His eyes were hard and wary, the fingers of his right hand drummed against the holster of his revolver, as if just waiting for an excuse to use it in anger. ' _Definitely not a city boy_.' she told herself. Lacey came over to the two and looked down at the stranger where he sat.

"What can I get for you?"

"Shot of rum for me and one for the lady, whatever she'll have." he said, gesturing towards Cass and pulling some caps from a pouch on his belt. She raised an eyebrow in surprise. Barely said two words to her, didn't even know her name and was already buying her a drink? Man wasted no time. She laughed silently to herself. 

"Whiskey." she said, it's not like she was going to pass up a free drink when the opportunity arose. Lacey poured them their drinks and brought them over. They both downed the liquor in a single gulp. 

"So, mister  _I'm not from a Vault_ , since you aren't from a vault, where'd you get the vault getup?" 

"A friend of mine wasn't using this stuff, so he gave it to me." 

"Is that a euphemism for 'I killed some poor stupid bastard out in the desert and stole his shit'?" 

"No, it means that a friend gave it to me." the man replied.

Cass huffed "Whatever you say."

The man looked down at the number of empty shot glasses sitting on the counter in front of Cass, and looked back at her. "So, what's a pretty young woman like yourself doing drinking in a hole like this all by herself?" 

She guffawed, hard, bursting into laughter for the first time in weeks. "Pretty?" she laughed "Look bud, I've been called a lot of things by a lot of different people in my life, but I think this is the first time somebody's called me _pretty_." 

"That's a shame." he said "Because it's true."

"Are you trying to seduce me?"

"That depends, is it working?"

"No." 

"Eh, worth a shot, since I'll probably be dead in a few weeks anyways." he said with a shrug, he waved to Lacey for another drink for both of them, she came over with two full shot glasses. 

"Try one of the troopers, they might be interested." 

"Nah, soldiers aren't really my type." he replied, pausing to look at at her after downing his drink "But you still haven't answered my question." 

"Why should I?"

"Why not? It's not like you'll ever see me again."

"Fine. My caravan was wiped out in a raid. All my people were killed and the cargo was burnt to ash, and my papers keep me stuck here in this shithole." 'With nothing to do but drown my misery at the bottom of a shot glass.' she added silently, she'd never been one to 'express' her feeling to somebody when that 'expression' wasn't punching them out cold.  

He nodded with what seemed to her as a semblance of sympathy "The wasteland's a mean bitch. She'll eat you alive, chew you up, and spit you out dead before you can blink." 

"Yeah." she sighed "So, what are you doing here? What's your story?" 

He reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a carton of cigarettes and a lighter. He put one of them in his mouth and lit it, inhaling deeply and blowing out a long stream of smoke before offering the box to Cass. Cass had never liked tobacco, hated the taste. She held up her hand, declining the offer. Lacey glared at the stranger but didn't say anything."Had some business with Major Knight and I'm doing a job for Ranger Jackson in the morning. After I get paid, I'm heading East through Nipton then North towards Vegas." 

"Planning on losing all your caps at the slot machines?" she could feel the affects of the alcohol in her body. She was defintely drunk, her face was flushed and her words began to slur, though not so terribly that they couldn't be understood. 

"No. I'm looking for somebody actually. He stole something of mine and I aim to get it back." 

She studied his face again. Cass had always been able to read people pretty well. He looked unsure of himself, fearful and nervous, but determined. Most people wouldn't trek halfway across the wasteland just to reclaim a bit of stolen property, there was more to his story that he wasn't telling. But that was none of her business anyways. 

" Nothing like thoughts of revenge to keep you going I guess." she laughed "Well, if you don't get yourself killed and find yourself short on caps, head over to Crimson Caravan and talk to Alice McLafferty. She's a grouchy old bitch with a stick up her ass, but at least she pays well." 

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind." he said with a smile, before taking another drag out of the cigarette. "By the way, I never got your name."

"Cass." she replied

"Cass..." He repeated, as though tasting the name on his tongue, getting a feel for it. 

"And you?" she asked.

"The name's Malcolm." 


	2. On the road again

Cass awoke the next morning with a terrifically skull splitting headache, the sun had already risen high in the sky and a tiny beam of its light had found its way through the curtains covering the window to shine directly in her eyes. The radio was playing _Ain't That a Kick in the Head_ at what felt like full volume, the sound reverberating painfully against her eardrums. She groaned, sitting up from where she had been slumped over, unconscious, wiping the sleep from her eyes to find that she had passed out at the counter where she'd been drinking last night. Lacey looked up at her from the glass she had been cleaning, giving her a non-expressive look, then turned her attention back to her cleaning. Cass looked around the room to find it empty except for a couple NCR troopers from the night watch shift quietly dozing in their cots, one of them snoring lightly, a ' _La Fantoma'_ comicbook covering his face.

Cass groaned again, rubbing her temples as the hangover headache throbbed cruelly and without any sign of relenting and her stomach churned violently, filling her with nausea. Her head was roaring with unfocused noise that she figured to be a product her her delirium. She struggled at trying to remember exactly what happened last night, and concluded that she must have blacked out. She could vaguely recall drinking with a stranger whose name she couldn't quite get, though it was on the tip of her tongue. Was it Mark? Matthew? Maurice? She shook her head. 'It doesn't really matter.' she told herself. The noise grew louder and more focused, and she realized that it wasn't in her head after all. She heard shouting and conversation outside, the chiming of bells and the mooing of a number of brahmin. The noise wasn't doing any favors for the headache.

Weakly, Cass staggered to her feet, catching the wall with her right hand and using it for balance as she stumbled towards the door, her head sending a fresh jolt of pain through her body with each step she took. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lacey watching her with a bemused smirk on her face as Cass struggled her way out of the building. "Yeah, yuck it up you smug bitch." she muttered to herself under her breath. She got to the door and struggled with the nob, which got stuck sometimes. With an annoyed grunt, she forced it, pushing open the door way too fast and nearly tumbling out into the open air. The bright noonish sun nearly blinded her and the light made it as though a hundred needles were poking and prodding her throbbing brain. She gasped in pain and quickly raised a hand to shade her sensitive eyes, staggering backwards against the wall of the barracks, shooting out her other hand to catch herself. 

As her eyes slowly adjusted to the light, she could make out people and brahmin crowding the road in front of the buildings. Men and women were loading cargo onto the two headed pack animals, others were cleaning weapons and checking ammunition, prepping to move out. She stumbled out towards the group, still covering her eyes. She spotted the owner of the caravan, a man named Joe, whom she had known for a while. He looked up from his clipboard, likely a list of cargo his caravan was transporting and smiled toothily when he spotted her.

"Afternoon sleeping beauty. How was your nap?" 

"Shut the fuck up Joe." she muttered.

"Still haven't lost that ladylike charm I see." he said, the smile growing, showing even more teeth.

"Yeah, I'll show you how much 'ladylike charm' I have when I jam my boot up your ass." she replied harshly but he just laughed. She couldn't help but give a slight smile despite the pain in her head. Cass liked Joe, he was an excellent caravaneer, he treated his employees well, didn't take unnecessary risks, and could drink with the best of them, and always had a joke to crack, whatever the situation.

She looked around at all the people working busily to prepare the caravan for a voyage. "So, uhhh, what's going on? Where're you going?"

"Primm." Joe replied. "That drifter in the Vault Suit cleared the road North first thing this morning. Jackson's given us the go-ahead to move out with the soldiers who'll be reinforcing the guys already there. Mick's caravan moved out a few hours ago headed towards Goodsprings." 

"Nobody's going East?" She asked "You'd probably do better business in Nipton." 

"Shit." he muttered "You haven't heard."

"Heard what?" 

"Legion burned Nipton to the ground, slaughtered everyone." he said "Jackson's forbidden any travel East, until a patrol can clear the area." 

"Motherfucker." she said under her breath, shaking her head. She felt like a brick of lead had just dropped into her gut, and for once it had nothing to do with alcohol. "Legion? In California? You've gotta be shitting me. Who brought the news?"

"The drifter. After Jackson paid him for killing the ants, he headed East, came back a few hours later with news of the attack. Said he ran into the Legionnaires personally and they spared him so he could spread word of the attack." 

"Is he still around here somewhere?" she asked, turning her head, looking for the distinct blue of the Vault Suit. 

"No, he left not long after he got back, headed back East. But he bought some extra ammo from Lacey before he went." Joe shrugged "Don't know what the crazy bastard was thinking, going back there, but he had _that look_ about him. I heard he saved Goodsprings from a group of Powder Gangers and completely wasted another group in Primm. I reckon he doesn't have time to worry about a few Legion scumbags." 

She frowned squinting her eyes in concentration, trying to remember her conversation with the man from last night, her head still throbbing. "He told me... he told me he was looking for someone. Guy stole something from him, I think, and he's tracking him down, headed towards Vegas. You know who he is?"

"Heard he was that courier that got shot in Goodsprings." Joe huffed "I pity the poor bastard pissed _him_  off. Probably should have had better aim." 

One of his guards strolled over, he nodded to Cass and she nodded back. "Joe, we're all packed up and set to go."

"Thanks Derrick, I'll be with you in a second." he turned back towards her. "Well, I really should get going. We've got a food shipment for Primm and I really want to get there before sundown." 

"Yeah, go on. Safe journey, I guess." she sighed sadly, knowing that soon it'd just be her alone with the NCR soldierboys.

"You too-" he caught himself too late "Er, well, ya know." 

"Yeah, yeah. I know." 

"We'll be back in a few days, then we're heading back to California." he said. 

"Alright, see you in a few." 

"Sure thing Cass, sit tight and try not to drink too much. Your liver'll thank you for it." 

"Would you fuck off already, you cheeky bastard?" 

"That's the plan." he said with his typical toothy smile. He turned to his people. "Alright ladies and gents, it's time to hit the road! Next stop, Primm!" The brahmin drivers put their beasts to motion and they started off down the paved road, passing underneath the statues of the rangers that marked the border. Joe nodded to Cass one last time and set off at a jog to catch up to his caravan. Cass watched them until they had disappeared from view down the traffic-jammed hill, then turned and walked back into the barracks.

Weeks later, Cass was sitting in her usual spot in the barracks. Joe's caravan had returned to the Outpost for a couple days to resupply and then headed back to NCR territory like he said it would. Other caravans passed through, some coming from California, others returning from Vegas or other spots in the Mojave. The Legion hadn't pushed any farther into California than Nipton, and the panic began to die down after a week or so. A few days ago, Mr. New Vegas reported the murder of a Strip Casino owner and that the perpetrator hadn't been caught, and that their identity was unknown to the authorities. There were also whispers of somebody going into the Lucky 38 where Mr. House lived, which was a first as far as she knew. But there was more news that disturbed her, other caravan attacks just like the one on hers, drivers killed, cargo burned to ash. Something was going on and there was more to it than just simple raider brutality. 

 _Jingle Jangle_ played in the background as she nursed a lukewarm beer that had been put in front of her, wondering if she'd ever be able to get out of this shithole when the the sound of the door creaking open and a sudden gust of hot air blew through her hair. She looked over to see somebody vaguely familiar stroll into the room, though she couldn't quite put her finger on where she'd seen him before. He was of medium build, she guessed his height to be just about 6', give or take a few inches, and his face was covered in a thick layer of stubble. He wore a suit of leather armor, heavily reinforced with extra armor plates. Several fragmentation grenades, a pulse grenade, and some bandoleers of ammunition crisscrossed the belts along his body. An unscoped hunting rifle slung across his back next to a beige traveling pack, and on his belt sat the strangest look 9mm pistol she'd ever seen. It was engraved heavily with floral designs and the picture of a robed woman lay on the pearl handle. 

He strolled over and sat down next to her, slinging his pack to the floor at his feet, and she got a better look at him. His eyes were hazel, and she noticed the pip-boy on his left wrist. She raised her eyebrows in recognition, it was the drifter, what'shisname, just without the vault suit. The Courier. She smiled wanly "Wasn't expecting to see you here again Matt... Max...?" 

"Malcolm." He corrected "I expected better from you Rose of Sharon Cassidy." he said with a sly grin. She was shocked. She never used her full name, and she didn't remember telling him it. But then again, she had been completely wasted when they'd met. "Though, to be fair you were wrecked out of your mind last time we talked, so I can't really blame you for not remembering." he said, as though voicing her thoughts. Lacey walked up to him, looking to take his order. "Water, thank you." she left and returned with the glass, setting it down in front of him, he took a long drink of it, downing almost half in a single gulp.

"So, Malcolm, what brings you back here? Gonna try to get into my pants again?" that part she remembered. 

"Are you offering?" he asked with mock hopefulness, already knowing her answer before she gave it. 

"No."

"Oh well." he said with a shrug "Though I am here for you." he leaned down and reached into his pack, pulling out a sheet of paper. "After I finished that business with my...  _friend_ and got back what he stole from me, I took your advice and talked to McLafferty." Cass didn't remember telling him to see McLafferty, but she shrugged it off as a definite possibility, even though she was a grouchy old bitch with a stick up her ass. "She sent me all the way across the Mojave back here to negotiate the sale of Cassidy Caravans to the Crimson Caravan Company." 

She was nearly left speechless, nearly. "What Cassidy Caravans? Don't they know it was burned to ash?" 

He shrugged "I'm just doing what I'm being paid to do."

"Well it's tough luck for you 'cause I'm not looking to sell. Not for all the whiskey in Reno." she could feel her temper building, and it wasn't because of the booze.

"Even if you have nothing? You aren't making any caps off of the caravan anymore. How are you gonna pay for your whiskey?" 

"It's more than that. If someone came up to you and offered you a thousand caps for your name, would you take it?" 

He opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off harshly. "You know what? Fuck it. I don't want to hear your answer anyway. Point is, I made the Caravan what it is, it's mine." 

Malcolm shrugged and handed her the paper. "Here's the terms."

"Yeah, yeah. I see the zeros, I know she's good for them." she replied sourly "It's not about the money, dad'd spin like a twister in his grave if he knew I'd sold our family name for anything."

The Courier sighed. "I've trekked across the Mojave and back. I'm not getting paid unless I get you to agree and getting here was expensive. I'm not leaving until we come to an agreement." 

"I get it, I do. You came a long ways, and it takes drive, but it just doesn't feel right trading history for a slip of paper." 

"Your caravan is dead. I've been there, I've seen the wreckage myself. They're dead. I know you don't want to believe it, but it's the truth. So there are your choices. Keep your name and spend who knows how long here, alone in the ass end of nowhere, or sell it and move on." He was right. She knew it, knew what he said was the truth. But she couldn't accept it, there had to be something left, something to hold on to. He lost patience with her silence and sighed. "Look, sign this paper and I'll help you track down the people who destroyed your caravan." 

"You would? Why? Why help somebody you barely know?" she asked, perplexed.

"Not out of the kindness of my heart, if that's what you were thinking." he replied bluntly "I want my caps, and besides, whoever they are, they've attacked other caravans too. They need to be put down." 

Was this it? Sell her name in exchange for justice for the dead? Would they even be able to find the perpetrators? If they did, would they be able to take them down? She pondered for what felt like an eternity, considering everything that could go wrong. Her thoughts constantly went back to all the years she spent building the caravan that bore her name, to the dead, _her_ _people_ , cut down like animals. If there was a chance for her to avenge them, she owed it to them to try.

"Alright." she said firmly and with certainty. "Give me that paper."  


	3. On the dusty trail

The duo left the Mojave Outpost early in the morning the next day. Malcolm bought Cass an extra traveling pack and they loaded up on ammunition, food, and water for the voyage to New Vegas. Malcolm decided to travel light, rather than be weighed down by too much equipment, stating that they could resupply in Novac, which should hold them over until they reached their destination. When she asked him about the cost for all of it, he replied that she could pay him back sometime in the future when she had the caps to spare. 

Once the two had passed under the twin Ranger statues, Cass breathed a sigh of relief. It'd been too damn long since she'd been able to stretch her legs and travel the roads, like she'd done for years with her caravan. In fact, she almost felt happy. She had her whiskey, she had her gun, and if her companion knew what he was doing, soon she'd have some assholes to shoot. Though she couldn't help but feel a strange uneasiness that she couldn't quite explain to herself. A feeling that she was getting in way over her head in something much bigger than herself and there would be no turning back. 

Today's heat was brutal. The sun beat down on them cruelly. Cass stripped off her leather jacket and button up plaid shirt, leaving just a plain tank-top. Malcolm forgoed his armor completely, stuffing it into his traveling pack, in favor of more comfortable traveling clothes, a pair of khaki pants and a white t-shirt, but unlike her, he didn't have a hat to shade his head and before long both of them were sweating like mole-rats. Thankfully, they'd both packed plenty of water for the trip. Dehydration was one of the deadliest killers in the wasteland. 

To her surprise, they took the road headed East, towards the ruins of Nipton, instead of the more direct route straight North. Cass strolled up next to Malcolm, who was had slowed down to light a cigarette, covering the lighter with his hand to keep the breeze from blowing the flame out. He offered her the box and again she declined.

"Why are we talking Route 95 instead of I-15?" she asked, working the keep pace with the man's long strides, wiping the sweat from her brow, when he successfully lit the tobacco. "It's a hell of a lot faster way to Vegas than going all the way around."

"Deathclaws." he said, taking a long drag and blowing it out as he walked. 

"What about Deathclaws?" she asked raising her eyebrows.

"Infested that NCR quarry and are completely blocking the road. I don't know about you, but I have no desire to try to sneak or fight past a pack of pissed off lizards with claws the length of my forearm." he replied "And while this rifle's great for killing people, I think it'd just make one of those monstrosities angry- well, angrier." he said, gesturing to the bolt-action hunting rifle looped around his shoulder next to his traveling pack. "And I don't think they'd even notice your shotgun. So, there, that's why we're taking the long way." 

"Shit, you didn't need to go into every fucking detail." she said with a slight chuckle. He just shrugged, taking another drag out of the cigarette.

Ahead of them loomed Nipton, now a ghost town. The Legion was gone, the fires had died weeks ago, and many of the buildings were still intact, but nobody wanted to go near the place, let alone resettle it. She looked at the town with unease, her heart rate increasing before she mentally kicked herself in the ass and demanded that she stop acting like a scared child. To the left of the road sat a dried up lake infested with giant ants, so they kept their distance. The ants seemed uninterested in them, so they were able to continue forward unmolested.

Soon they came to the outskirts of the town. It was dead quiet, except for the cawing of the crows that were scattered around, uncomfortably quiet. To the left of the road sat the general goods store, to the right was an abandoned house. Red flags adorned with the yellow bull Caesar's Legion sat at the entrance to town on both sides, like a welcome, or a warning. 'Look what we did. look what we did and there's nothing you can do about it.' They pushed further into town towards main street leading outwards from the town hall when she broke the uneasy silence.

"How did it happen exactly?" she asked "Do you know?"

"Legion captured everybody, rounded them all up and dragged them into the middle of town where they held a lottery." 

"A lottery?"

"Yeah. First place ticket got off free. Second place got his legs crippled. Next came those who were enslaved, then beheadings..." they reached mainstreet and Cass grimaced at the sight before her. "... and last place were crucified." Malcolm added solemnly. All along the street were rows of crosses, each had a corpse nailed to the wooden boards. The bodies were mostly decomposed, but bits and pieces of flesh still clung to the bones. Some of the crows were still working the corpses, picking them clean of their last scraps. The birds took to the air with angry caws and the flapping of wings as the two passed. 

"Shit..." she muttered under her breath. Cass had heard stories of Legion atrocities, but this was her first personal experience, and it left one hell of an impression. It must have taken days for them to die, slowly suffering as the brutal Nevada sun slowly baked them alive. They would have died from heat-stroke or dehydration long before starvation kicked in, but that didn't make it any less horrific. Some were dressed in the tattered remains of Powder Ganger clothing, others bore the armor of the NCR military, and the rest wore typical clothing you'd find in any other town. The Legion didn't care who you were, in their eyes all who didn't serve the Legion were profligates, and profligates were to be punished. 

Cass stopped in front of one of the crosses, this one bearing the skeleton of what looked like a young woman. She couldn't help but lose herself in thought, who was she? What was she like in life? What were her last moments like before death? When she felt a hand on her shoulder she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Come on, let's get out of here." Malcolm said, noticing her staring at the crucified corpses lining the street. "I don't like it here any more than you do." 

"We're just gonna leave them up there like that?"

"Yeah, they aren't our problem." he said.

"It just doesn't seem right." Nipton was a shithole. Everbody in the Mojave knew that. The people were sleazy, cowardly and treacherous. They would sell their own mothers into slavery for a few caps. But nobody deserved this kind of death.

"People die. It's the simple fact of life, and we can't hold a funeral for every corpse we stumble over out in the wastes."  he sighed. "I'm sure somebody'll cut them down. Maybe Jackson will send some soldiers, or something." He turned away from the bodies and started walking down the road away from the town hall. 

 _Then the why hasn't the ball-less bastard done it yet_ she thought to herself. "Yeah, sure." she muttered and turned to follow him.

They passed an abandoned trailer park, giving it a wide berth to avoid the bark scorpions that had taken up residence in the absence of humans. She'd have preferred to just shoot the vermin and be done with it, but Malcolm said not to use any ammo unless absolutely necessary. The scorpions paid them little mind as they milled about aimlessly on the other side of the chain-link fence surrounding the park. Soon they passed the pre-war border into Nevada. Cass gazed with unease at the tall sheer cliffs surrounding the narrow road. 

She stopped and nudged Malcolm's arm, pointing at the pass. "Looks like a good spot for an ambush, we should try to find another way." 

"Nah, it's clear." he said. "I came through this way just yesterday." 

"And how do you know that it's still clear?" 

"Well, it wasn't yesterday." he said "Unless a whole new band of raiders showed up in the middle of the night, it's safe."

Without another word, he started off back up the road. With a nervous reluctance, she followed. They had passed the wreckage of a few pre-war vehicles when the smell hit her. The bodies of the raiders Malcolm had killed were already well into the early stages of decomposition, the process sped up by the merciless heat of the desert sun. They lay sprawled about the ravine in pools of their own congealed blood. One of them sat slumped in a chair behind an overturned truck, a large hole, obviously made by a high-caliber bullet punched through his chest. Another body lay several meters away, face down, it looked like he had tried to run but was cut down before he got far. Another body lay at the foot of one of the cliffs, far more mangled and broken than the first two, he must have fallen after he was shot. 

"Nice shooting." she said, waving her hand in front of her nose as though to blow away the stench. She meant it, it took a lot of skill to hit targets at a distance without a telescopic sight, let alone targets that were moving.  

"Yeah, it's just one of my  _many_ talents." he said teasingly, smiling waving his eyebrows at her.

Cass hmphed ."Yeah, like being all talk and no game."

"How would you know that?" he asked "We've never played that game?" 

"And never will. I know your type."

"Really? What type is that?"

"The kind that hits on a girl next to a pile of rotting corpses." she laughed "Not exactly romantic, lover boy." 

"Oh, yeah. We should probably get moving. The smell's starting to give me a headache." 

"Good idea." 

The road curved North and they started heading in a relatively straight line toward the New Vegas strip. As they exited the ravine, they passed an abandoned ranch littered with the corpses of brahmin that had been abandoned and trapped in their pens. It was quiet, very quiet. The only sounds she heard were the steady rapport of their boots against the gravel road, and her own breath as she inhaled and exhaled the scorching air. The wind was dead and the dry heat was nearly unbearable. Sweat poured down her face and chest, staining the neckline of her tank top, she looked over and saw that Malcolm wasn't faring much better. Cass had never been more grateful for her hat. She didn't tan, she burned, badly, and already she could see her arms becoming red and irritated. Her companion didn't seem to share her problem. If he was any more tanned, his skin would become leather. Didn't stop the sweat though. 

She stopped and knelt swinging her pack from her shoulders. Digging through the various junk she was carrying, her hands found what she was searching for. Cass pulled the bottle of purified water from the pack. It was hot, but still better than nothing. She unscrewed the cap and took a long drink, before taking off her straw hat, and pouring some over her head. She handed the bottle to Malcolm who accepted it gratefully and did the same. Once he was finished, he handed the now empty bottle back to Cass and she stuffed it back into her pack. She swung the pack around her shoulders again and stood up.

The water did some to sate their thirst, but not much. It would have to do though. The quiet still made Cass uneasy. It wasn't that she was afraid or anything, in fact, she welcomed the change from her time spent at the Mojave Outpost. It was just that it was a big change from the constant hustle and bustle of the caravaneers and soldiers moving across the border. It would simply take some getting used to.

As though he read her thoughts, Malcolm spoke, fidgeting with his Pip-Boy 3000. "How about some music?"

"That thing can play music?"

"Yeah, it's got a radio built into it, gets a pretty strong signal too. Shouldn't be a problem, even out here." 

Cass shrugged "Sure, why not?" Malcolm turned another knob on the Pip-Boy and got only static, he frowned and fidgeted with the knob some more. Cass smiled "What happened to that great signal?"

"Hold on, just give me a sec." he said twisting the knob but only getting a garbled singal. He groaned and pounded it with an open palmed hand. Mr. New Vegas' voice came through the built in speakers as clear as day. 

"-That's the news. This is Mr. New Vegas, filling in for... Mr. New Vegas."

"Damn, missed the news." Malcolm muttered. _Jingle Jangle Jingle_ began to play and he started to whistle to the tune of the song as they walked across the wide open desert. He started to absent-mindedly whistle to the tune as his boots padded across the hard pavement of the highway. Cass listened to the music in silence when she looked up into the sky. The sun had begun to sink in the sky as the day shifted into late afternoon and their shadows grew longer and longer. 

"We better get to shelter soon." she said "The deserts a cold bitch at night."  _Literally_ , she thought. It still shocked her how the desert could go from 'melt the soles of your boots to the pavement hot' to 'freeze your dick off' cold in the span of only a few hours. And frankly, she was exhausted and had a horrendous headache from the heat. 

Malcolm looked up at the sun and frowned, the Pip-Boy was now playing _Big Iron_. "Should'a left the outpost earlier. I don't think we'll make it to Novac before nightfall." he sighed "Alright, let's look for a place to set up camp for the night." 

"We could go back to that ranch we passed...?" she suggested. They turned and looked back down the road where they had come from.

"That might be our best bet... as much as I love the smell of brahmin, let alone _dead brahmin._ "

"Go for your gun and _you'll_ be a dead brahmin." a gruff voice said. They turned slowly to see four armed men step out from behind the rocks lining the road. Two of them were armed with guns, a .44 magnum revolver and a 5.56mm varmint rifle by the looks of it. Another held a piece of lead pipe, and the fourth wielded a machete. Jackals, by the look of them. 

"I thought you said this fucking road was clear." Cass hissed at the Courier.

He shrugged innocently "It was, yesterday."

"Well it ain't anymore." The guy with the Magnum said, pointing the weapon at Malcolm's chest. "Heard that radio from a mile away. Drop your guns on the ground, nice and easy."

The guy with the varmint rifle had her covered. Slowly, she slid her caravan shotgun from her back, and gently placed it on the ground. Malcolm did the same with his hunting rifle and 9mm handgun. She looked at him and noticed the end of the handle of a switchblade knife sticking out of the back pocket of his cargo pants.

"Alright, now kick them away and toss us your packs." magnum ordered, obviously the leader. The complied, tossing their packs to the guys without the guns. They knelt, digging through the packs. "Anything good?" boss man demanded.

"Food and fresh water for a few days, and a few stimpacks and Med-X." the man with Malcolm's pack said. "Decent amount of .308 and 9mm ammo, and a half full pack of cigarettes." 

"Same over here, but with shotgun shells and a few bottles of whiskey." the guy with Cass' pack replied.

"Not a bad haul." boss man said

The man with the rifle laughed. "I'd say the real catch is right here." he said, gesturing the gun at Cass. He walked towards her, appraising her body, practically drooling like a retarded animal. "She's a damn fine sight. Haven't seen a decent looking woman in weeks." 

"We're not touching them. Legion likes their meat fresh and unspoiled."

"Why the hell are we selling them to the Legion?"

"Because they're gonna be swarming all over this place soon. You know what they did at Nelson and Nipton. NCR can't hold 'em back and I'd rather be on their good side when they take over." 

"Oh come on! They won't be able to tell. Let's have some fun with her. Just for tonight." he reached out, grabbing her chin, getting a better look at her face. His face was covered in a shaggy beard and she could smell the stink of sweat on his body. His breath reeked of alcohol. His gaze fell from hers down her neck to look down the front of her tank-top. His hand began to follow. 

Without really thinking, she kneed him in the groin as hard as she could, putting all the strength she could muster in her exhaustion and crushing his balls like grapes. The rifle fell from his grasp and he quickly follwed dropping to the ground like a sack of brahmin shit. She wasn't going to die today.

Immediately, she dove for her shotgun which lay five feet away on the pavement. She scraped her arms against the gravel as she grabbed it and rolled up into a kneeling position, pointing it at the threat. The raider with the machete charged her and she fired both barrels at once, unloading the buckshot straight into the mans chest, tearing through flesh and bone. He was dead before he hit the ground. She heard a muffled, pained gasp and another shot. She looked down at herself, searching for a bloody wound, but to her shock, she wasn't the target. She looked up to see Malcolm pulling the switchblade out of the leader's throat, the raider's .44 grasped tightly in his hand, the barrel smoking. The kid with the pip lay on the road, clutching a bleeding wound in his gut groaning in pain. Standing, she turned her attention to the man she'd kneed, he was quckly crawling towards his fallen rifle, she got there first, kicking the weapon out of his reach and delivering a second kick, this time to his gut.

"What do we do with him?" she asked, gesturing to her would be rapist. Without a word, Malcolm strolled over and placed a boot firmly against the man's back, forcing his face into the gravel of the road and keeping him from moving. He raised the magnum, pulling back the hammer and pointing the barrel at the back of his head.

"Fuck yo-" the raider spat before the boom of the magnum sounded, blowing out the back of the man's skull and splattering blood, bone and brain everywhere. Cass flinched instinctively at the sound. Another pained cry grabbed her attention. She looked at the first man Malcolm had shot, only to find he wasn't much of a man. The kid, didn't look a day over sixteen. Blood flowed between the fingers covering the bullet wound as he weakly tried to crawl away from them. Malcolm strode over and stepped down on the kids leg, stopping him dead. He pulled back the hammer again with his thumb and began to raise it.

"Wait. Please!" the kid begged, the Courier ignored his pleas, he raised the gun to the boy's head much the same as the last raider, preparing the execute him. "Please don't!" he begged again. Cass felt a sudden pang of pity for the boy that she couldn't quite explain. She couldn't just let Malcolm put him down like an animal.

"Don't." she said, he stiffened and lowered the weapon slightly. "You don't need to kill him. He's just a kid, he's unarmed." 

"I've already killed him, shooting him again would be a mercy." he replied "That gut shot's gonna be fatal, whether it's from bleeding out, or getting torn to shreds and eaten by the wildlife, he's going to die."

"You could give him a stimpack?" 

"No. I'm not wasting any of our supplies on a man who was going to rape you and sell us into slavery. Besides, even if I would, it still wouldn't get that round out of his intestines and neither of us are combat surgeons."

"We could bring him with us. Isn't there a ranger station nearby? We could hand him over to them, they could take care of him."

"Wiped out by the Legion." he replied bluntly "There's nothing we can do to help him except make it quick."

"Please. I don't want to die!" the kid begged, tears streaming from his eyes. His stare fell on Cass. "Talk him out of it. Please." 

"I- but-." she sighed, she wanted to argue, though she didn't know why, but he was right. There was nothing they could do for him, the kid made his choice, and now he would die with the consequences. "Alright." she sighed sadly, turning away.

"Wai-!" the gunshot cut the kid's cry short, and again it was silent but for the droning of the evening news story from Mr. New Vegas over the radio.


	4. Wolfhorn Ranch

The sun hung low in the sky, barely skimming the tops of the hills in the West. Night wasn't far off from the Mojave wasteland as Cass and her new traveling companion stood alone on the silent highway North. Malcolm lowered the magnum, smoke still pouring from the barrel. He flicked off the radio on his pip-boy and flipped open the cylinder to the revolver.

"Three rounds left." he said, mostly to himself. He walked over to his rifle and pistol, swinging the hunting rifle around his shoulder, and reholstering the handgun. 

Cass dug into the ammo pouch that hung off her belt. She grabbed a couple 20 gauge shells, pushed open the breach to her shotgun, dumped the spent shell casings and loaded the fresh ones, before popping it closed again. She looked up, surveying the carnage. Four raiders lay dead at their feet, killed only moments before. Blood poured from the nearest man's head in an ever expanding pool. Gingerly, she stepped back from the corpse before the blood pool reached her boots. She looked up at Malcolm, who was patting down the kid he'd just shot.

"Check the other bodies." he said "Let's see what they have on them." Cass knelt down next to the dead man at her feet and started going through his packs and pockets. She found about twenty 5.56mm rounds for his varmint rifle, a bottle of water, and an empty bottle of whiskey. These guys were traveling light, probably had a camp nearby. She looked up to see Malcolm stuffing a pack of cigarettes into his pocket with one hand, and holding another water bottle in the other. He frowned at the bottle and held it up to his pip-boy. Cass could hear the telltale clicking of a Geiger counter.

"Water's shit." Malcolm stated, chucking the bottle away "Give me the one you found. I'll check it too." she tossed the bottle over to him and he held it up to his Pip-boy's Geiger counter like the first one, but she didn't hear it go off. "This one's good." he said, walking over to his pack. He grabbed his belongings off of the pavement where the raiders had dumped them out and stuffed them back in before dropping the water down with the rest. He got up, swinging the pack up and around his shoulders before walking over to the man he had stabbed with the switchblade. Cass looked over at the man she had shot. He was a bloody mess. The buckshot had torn open his chest and abdomen, and much of his innards sprawled out in torn, blood-soaked ribbons. She didn't have to check to know there was nothing left intact to take off the corpse. Instead she walked over to her own pack that had been ransacked like Malcolm's. By the time she was finished putting everything back in place, her companion had finished looting the last guy's body.

"Got about a dozen more .44 rounds, a couple more bottles of clean water, and a combat knife. I think I'll keep the knife for myself" Malcolm said as he flipped open the cylinder to his new magnum, dumped out the empty casings and loaded another three rounds. He took the knife and sheath, attaching it to his belt, then unclipped the dead man's holster from his belt and returned the magnum to it. "You any good with revolvers?" he asked her.

"Yeah. I'm pretty good with any weapon you can find out here. Except energy weapons. Don't know shit about those."

"That makes two of us." he said "Well, here you go." Malcolm extended the holstered revolver toward her and she took it, clipping it to her own belt, then she took the extra rounds from him and found some space in one of the pouches on her belt for the ammo. 

"You want me to look at that?" she hear him ask, and looked up at him. "Your arm." he said. Cass looked down and noticed a slight trickle of blood flowing from her elbow where she had scraped it against the pavement. The adrenaline pumping through her body made the small wound go completely unnoticed until now.

"Oh... Um, no, I got it." she knelt down next to her pack and procured a bottle of clean water, and a roll of bandages. She poured a bit over the bleeding scrape, washing away the blood, and then quickly wrapped the bandage around her arm and cut off the end, but was having trouble tying it off with only one hand and growled in frustration. 

"Here. Let me." he said, smiling at her agitation. Cass relented and let him pull the bandage tight and tie off the end to keep it in place. 

"Thanks..." she said.

Once they were done taking what they wanted from the dead, they dragged the corpses off to the side of the road and then started on their way towards the abandoned ranch. Already Cass could feel the air beginning to cool rapidly and the wind, which had been dead still the entire day began to pick up as though the desert was giving them the finger. She dug her leather jacket out from her pack and slid her arms into the sleeves. The leather did little to stave off the cold and before long she was shivering.

"Why the fuck did the desert have to try to kill us when the raiders and local wildlife are doing a fine fucking job without the help?" she muttered angrily.

"Obviously not good enough." Malcolm replied through chattering teeth "We're still alive." 

"Barely. We walked right into that fucking ambush." 

"Yeah... yeah we did. It's not gonna happen again." 

"You're damn right we're not." 

After what felt like an eternity of trudging through the cold wasteland, they could finally see the outline of the ranch set against the dark horizon. Not soon enough, they pushed open the sheetmetal door to the largest shack on the land and slammed it shut against the now howling wind. The metal walls of the ancient building creaked and groaned from the onslaught, but held firm. Despite the much needed, and heartily welcomed shelter, the metal walls weren't insulated against the cold, and full of holes that allowed the air to creep in, but for the most part, blocked the biting wind that howeled outside. Not only that, but in the dead of night, the room was pitch black. She heard Malcolm fiddling with something in the dark. She heard him flip a switch and suddenly  _Ain't that a Kick in the Head_ blared from his Pip-Boy radio, reverberating from the walls of the shack far too loudly for her liking.

"Shit, wrong button." she heard him mutter before the music was silenced "Sorry about that." He fiddled some more with the Pip-Boy and then the room was illuminated with a pale green light shining from the device on his wrist. Cass looked around the surprisingly large room and found a few lockers standing against the wall to their left, a table, broken refrigerator, and a stove to their right, and on the far wall, a lone bed. 

"Cozy." Malcolm said with a grin. He moved over to the lockers that lined the wall and started sifting through them, looking for anything of value that they could take. He found a few bottles of liquor, some caps, a few cans of food, and some ammunition for weapons neither of them had and a half full oil lamp. He hung the lamp from a hook hanging from the ceiling and lit it with his lighter. The yellow flames illuminated the room nicely and he shut off the light on his Pip-Boy. "You hungry?" he asked.

Despite the unrelenting heat of the day and the sunburns, she was. Maybe it had something to do with near death experiences? "Starving." Malcolm nodded and strode over to the oven and twisted one of the knobs testing a burner. It lit. He grinned triumphantly and dug into his pack, pulling out the canned foodstuffs he kept in there, lining them up alongside the stuff he found in the lockers.

"Let's see. On tonight's menu we have Pork n' Beans, Pork n' Beans, some more Pork n' Beans, and oh would you look at that!"

"Let me guess, more Pork n' beans?"

"Cram." 

"Fucking wonderful." she muttered "I'll take the Cram." 

"Excellent choice." He grabbed the box of Cram and one of the cans of Pork n' Beans, and took out a cooking pan from his pack, which he dumped the cram onto before setting it on the stove. He cut open the lid of the can with his combat knife and lit burner on the stove. He then checked something on his Pip-Boy before looking around the room again. 

"So... what's the bed situation? I wouldn't mind sharing." he said with that insufferable teasing grin. 

"Hmm." she said thoughtfully "I'll play you for it. How 'bout a game of Caravan?"

"Really? I would have expected a drinking game." 

"We only have so much damn booze." she laughed "Gotta make it last." 

"Well, I don't have any cards." Malcolm said.

"I've got enough for two." Cass replied. "Help me move that table." she gestured to the table sitting in the corner next to the door. The two of them hoisted it up and carried it to the middle of the room along with two chairs. Then Cass knelt, digging into her pack for her deck. She came back out with the cards and a glass bottle of whiskey. She unscrewed the cap, took a long gulp of the booze and handed it to Malcolm. "You play much?"

"Not really. Don't usually have anybody to play with." 

"But you know the rules?"

"Kinda, why don't you run them by me." 

Cass quickly ran over the rules with him and dealt out the cards and they began to play. It didn't take long before it became apparent to her that her Companion was shit at the game. It wasn't long before she'd beaten him soundly. He shrugged and got up to check on the food.

"I'm glad I didn't bet any caps." he said, stirring the canned Pork n' Beans with a spoon. "I'd challenge you to a rematch but I'm pretty sure you'd just kick my ass again."

"Well, there wasn't a whole fucking lot to do at the outpost besides drink and play card games." she replied. Malcolm turned off the burners on the stove and carried the food over to the table using a piece of cloth as an oven mitt.   

"Eat up." Cass looked down at the foul smelling, slightly undercooked Cram and wrinkled her nose, poking at it and shifting it around her plate with her fork. Malcolm noticed and feigned offense "Hey, you're hurting my feelings. To think I went through all that trouble to prepare you a nice home cooked meal for our first date." 

"Pfft, you wish." she looked up at him as he started to dig into his own dinner. "Hey, you wanna trade?"

"Nope. You asked for Cram, you got Cram. If you want something else, cook it yourself."  

"Ehh, fuck it." she said with a reluctant shrug and had at it. The meat tasted as bad as it smelled, though what would you expect from two hundred year old beef. She suppressed a gag as she forced it down her gullet then washed it down with a long swig from her whiskey bottle, mostly to kill the nerves in her mouth so she wouldn't have to taste that shit again. 

"I take it whiskey's your drink of choice?" 

"Yeah, I don't know if I chose it or it chose me. Something about the burn suited me just fine." she replied "Used to call me Whiskey Rose back West, before I punched enough people, now they say it, but quiet and when I'm not around."

"Makes sense, with your name and all that." Malcolm said "Speaking of which, how the hell did you wind up with the name 'Rose of Sharon'?"

"I dunno. My parents got it out of some fucking pre-war book about dirt pilgrims or something." 

"Is that why you joined the Caravan business? People making fun of you for your weird name?" 

"Fuck you. And no. People learned that was a bad fucking idea pretty quick." she said "I just could never stand staying in the same place for too long. If not, I'd probably be running the family bar back in Vault City."

"It's all so clear now." Malcolm laughed "The love for booze runs in the family." 

"So anyways." she started, ignoring him "I started to travel a lot across NCR. Sometimes when I stopped, someone would have a package or something that they'd need carried to another town, and I was willing to oblige as long as they paid. From there, Cassidy Caravans grew."

"So like you were like a courier?" 

"No, nothing that glamorous. Roads back West were a lot safer than out here. Well, most of the time." 

He snorted "Ain't nothing glamorous about getting robbed, shot in the head, and dumped into a shallow grave." he took a swig from the whiskey bottle Cass had left out on the table. "Makes for a pretty good revenge story of you survive. But how many people can say they lived through taking a bullet to the brain?" 

Cass shrugged "Met this old bastard in Reno who took a rifle round to the face when he was a kid. Blew out his eye and most of his skull on its way through and he still ain't dead." 

Malcolm raised his eyebrows "Huh. I'll have to meet this guy sometime. We can swap stories about living through bullet-in-skull syndrome." 

"Yeah. I'll give you his address. The two of you can form a fucking support group where you can chat about how thick-skulled you are." 

After they had finished eating, the two of them moved the table back to its original spot to give Malcolm room to spread his bedroll across the floor. It was still pretty damn cold inside the hut, so she climbed into bed still in her jacket and jeans. Malcolm unrolled his bedroll a few feet away from the bed and shut off the gas lamp before slipping into the sleeping bag.

"Just a fair warning." his voice called out in the darkness "I've been told I snore like a deathclaw."

She groaned "Do deathclaws even snore?"

"No idea, it's not really something I have any desire to discover." he said. 

She rolled over onto her side and shut her eyes, trying to drift off into some much needed sleep. Much to Cass' misfortune, her traveling partner beet her to unconsciousness, and he did indeed, snore like a deathclaw. 


	5. Novac

Cass was awoken by glaring sunlight shining right into her eyes through a tiny hole in the wall and a throbbing headache pounding her temples. She was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and her stomach felt like somebody had hacked it open with a rusty spoon, yanked it out, and dumped a bunch of jagged rocks in its place. Across the room a radio blared _Johnny Guitar_  at what sounded to her like full volume. The sound of her least favorite song assaulted her eardrums without mercy. She groaned, and rolled over onto her side, waving a dismissive hand in the direction of the radio. 

"Lacey, turn that shit down, I'm trying to sleep dammit..." she muttered. 

"Your wish is my command, princess." a man's voice taunted snidely, something was familiar about it... The radio shut off, and Cass' eyes jolted open. She looked around and immediately discovered she was no longer in her bunk in the Mojave Outpost Barracks. The brick and cinder block walls were replaced by porous sheet metal, and her bunk was a single twin sized bed. The room itself was much smaller. Across the way, opposite of the bed was the door, to the right of which was a row of metal lockers. On the wall across from the locker was a small table and an oven.

It all came back to her slowly. She'd left the Outpost the day before with a guy she barely knew to track down the bastards who murdered her caravan. They'd passed through Nipton, burned to ash by the Legion, then were ambushed by raiders, who they'd managed to kill. They'd camped out for the night in an abandoned ranch just off the main highway to Vegas. 

Slowly, Cass slid out of bed, clutching her gut, each movement sending another jolt of pan through her body. She groaned again, as she stood up. Whatever she'd eaten last night sure as hell wasn't doing her any favors. 

"Sleep well?" her companion teased. He was seated at the table, back turned towards her, tinkering with something. A lit cigarette sat between his teeth, sending a thin trail of smoke wafting towards the ceiling. She then noticed her caravan shotgun leaning against the wall to the left of the table. 

"The hell you doing with my gun?" she asked, walking towards him, hand still clutched to her gut. 

"Just finished cleaning it." Malcolm said between his teeth to keep the cigarette from falling out of his mouth. "You're welcome by the way. The thing looked like it hadn't been strip-cleaned in weeks. I'm surprised it didn't jam or misfire on you in that last fight." Cass noticed the weapon repair and maintenance kit on the table next to Malcolm as he started to put his ornate 9mm pistol back together. His rifle, and her new .44 were already cleaned and loaded.

"Been at this for long?" 

"Since I woke up." Malcolm replied, slapping a loaded magazine into the pistol's grip and pulling back the slider to load a round into the chamber. He checked the safety before sliding it back into its holster on his belt. "Something I like to do every morning. Wind kicks up a lotta dust in the desert. Gotta make sure it doesn't gunk up the barrels or firing mechanism." 

"Uh huh." Cass paused then grimaced as another wave of pain shook through her. Malcolm pushed himself up out of his chair and handed her her shotgun and magnum. He noticed the look on her face and frowned in concern.

"You're really not looking too hot."

"Thanks. I really needed to hear that." she groaned again "Something I ate, I think."

Malcolm smiled "Yeah, two hundred year old cram will tend to do terrible things to your bowels. " 

"You don't say?" she grunted, doubling over "I feel like I'm gonna shit my guts out onto the floor." 

"Please don't." Malcolm replied. He walked over to his bag, pulled out a book and tossed it to her. "Did some more scrounging and found this. There's an outhouse down the hill. Don't take too long, we're burning daylight." 

"What am I supposed to do with this?" she said, gesturing with Sun Tzu's  _Art of War_ in her hand "Read it or wipe my ass with it?"

"I leave that decision up to you." 

By the time she'd finished Malcolm had already finished checking their supplies and they started back on the road north to Novac without delay. This day turned out to be just as hot as the last, and before long they were sweating like brahmin. The pace was sluggish and until they reached the next canyon shade was all but non-existent. Like before they'd stripped down to as little as would be considered still decent. She reached up to fiddle with the rose pendant around her neck before dropping it back down to her chest.She looked to her right at Malcolm under the brim of her straw hat. He took a long drink from a bottle of purified water before handing it over to her. It was almost too hot to drink and the taste was anything but 'pure' but she was grateful to have some hydration. Again her gaze fell on the strange pistol swinging in the holster on his hip. 

"Sooo... what's the story behind that gun of yours? It looks like it belongs in some fucking art museum rather than putting bullets in raiders." 

"Condition's too good to be prewar. Lacks the wear and tear of most two hundred year old guns you'll find out there. Obviously custom made. Most likely Gun-Runner handiwork, since they're the only one's who can make firearms of this quality anymore. Probably a request by some narcissist with too many caps on his hands and wanted something to show off to his friends to make himself seem more badass than he really was." 

"Ok... I wasn't really asking for an origin story. How'd you get it?" she handed the bottle of water back to him

"Put a bullet in the previous owner's head and took it off his corpse to keep as a souvenir." Malcolm replied coolly, keeping his gaze on the half full bottle for a moment before stuffing it back into his pack. "Sonovabitch had it coming to him."  

"Yeah, the one thing there isn't a shortage of in this wasteland is assholes who need nothing more than a bullet to put them out of everyone's misery." Cass replied. "What'd this poor fucker do to piss you off?" 

"Robbed me, shot me, dumped me in a shallow grave to die." 

"Shit. He the one you were chasing across the Mojave?" 

"The very same." 

"So, who was he? Some kind of New Vegas bigshot?" 

"Ever heard of The Tops?"

"Yeah, that Casino in Vegas. What about it?" 

"He owned the place." 

Cass held up her hands "Wait just a fucking second. Are you telling me that _you're_ the guy who killed Benny? You just walked onto the Strip, waltzed into one of the most heavily guarded places in the wasteland and blew the brains out of the fucker who ran the place?" 

"There was a little more to it than that. But yeah, that's the gist of it." 

Cass burst into laughter, momentarily forgetting the gnawing pain in her gut. "Goddamn, you got some balls, I'll give you that." she caught her breath "Guy was a real prick. I think owe you a drink for that one. But what I don't get is what the hell was a casino owner doing out in the ass end of nowhere robbing _you_?" 

"I was a courier. He wanted the package I was carrying." 

"Must have been pretty damned important for him to drag himself all the way to Goodsprings just to shoot your ass." she shrugged "But that's your business. Not mine." 

"True enough." 

They followed the road led into the next canyon past NCR Ranger Station Charlie, which was eerily deserted. Cass remembered Malcolm telling her that the Legion had attacked the place and killed everybody there like they had Nipton. The silence made her uncomfortable, the gnawing sensation in her gut that something just wasn't right. Instinctively she kept her hand on the grip of her new magnum. It was probably all just in her head, but the place felt... haunted. It was just another sign that the Legion was getting bolder and that their attack on Hoover Dam was closing quickly. 

"We're almost there." Malcolm said aloud, snapping Cass out of her thoughts. She moved her gaze from the deserted ranger station back to the road ahead. Sure enough she could see Dinky the Dinosaur on the horizon in all his splendor. When she first saw Novac she'd mistaken the dinosaur for a giant gecko and nearly pissed herself. Her guys had teased her about that for weeks. The memory brought heartache with it, but quickly pushed the feelings back down and buried them.

She had been to Novac a few times on caravan runs after she'd moved her business to the Mojave and didn't think particularly highly of the little settlement. Other than the building shaped like a dinosaur that served as the general store and sniper's perch, it wasn't much to look at. There was something off about the old lady who ran the hotel, Jeannie May. She was just too damn friendly not to be hiding some sort of fucked up secret. The town snipers weren't terrible to look at, so she'd decided to try her luck with one of them. The miserable broody one with the sunglasses hadn't even so much as acknowledged her existence. But fortunately, or rather, unfortunately as she found out that night, she had an easier time with his partner. He'd been a selfish asshole in bed without the slightest idea or care in the world for how to please a woman. She'd left long before he'd woken up thoroughly disappointed. And of course, there was No-Bark. Craziest bastard this side of the border. Nothing that came out of his mouth made the slightest bit of sense and she quickly learned to ignore him. The doctor, Stranz? Straus? She couldn't quite remember, was a clueless idiot. How Novac tolerated her as their one and only doctor was beyond her.

Other than them, the only people of interest, and that was being generous, were Ranger Andy, Daisy, and Cliff, the guy who ran the general store. Ranger Andy was worn out. Legion had fucked up his legs bad early in the war with NCR but he'd managed to get away with his life. He couldn't continue serving in the military so he'd retired and moved to Novac. He kept to himself mostly, but if you got a few drinks in him he could tell one hell of a story. Cass wasn't afraid to admit that she actually liked Daisy. She was old and past her prime, but was still tough as nails and didn't take shit from anybody. She could shoot a gun as well as anybody she knew and did her part in protecting the town from raiders. Cliff seemed friendly enough, though he overcharged for a lot of the shit he sold in the little store he ran inside Dinky's gut, and he was always trying to peddle those stupid dinosaur toys off on anybody he thought would be stupid enough to buy them. Cass did her best to keep her interactions with the man as brief as possible. 

"I want to stop by the store." Malcolm told her "Get some more water for road. Maybe see if Cliff has any scopes I might use for my rifle."

"Yeah, sure."  

As they made their way up to the gate Cass heard her name called from behind. She turned to see a group of caravaneers playing cards at a makeshift table under a canvas lean-to they'd set up. The speaker, a middle aged woman with dirty blonde, starting to grey, hair she recognized immediately. The other woman stood up with a warm smile and walked towards them. 

"Rose of Sharon Cassidy." she laughed "What's your booze hounding mug doing all the way out here? I thought you were still stuck at the Outpost spending every cap to your name getting wasted out of your mind." 

"Not anymore. Thank fucking God." Cass replied "Malcolm, this is Kate Riczowsky, owner of Riczowsky Caravan and a real bitch." 

Kate laughed, extending a hand towards Malcolm, which he took. Kate had a firm grip and looked him in the eye. Her sky blue eyes were bright and lively for her age. "Rosie here likes to talk a lot of shit, but she don't mean anything by it."

She dropped his hand and Malcolm smiled. "Don't I know it? I'll let you two ladies catch up. I've still got some business to take care of." and with that he left them. Kate watched as he pushed past the gate in the chainlink fence, rounded the dinosaur's tail and disappeared from view.

She turned towards her people. "Don't wait up for me." she called out before turning back to Cass "Come on, let's get out of the sun." There was an old broken down gas station across the way from the motel that the people of Novac used to store supplies. The overhang above the coolant pumps was still standing providing decent shade from the brutal desert sun. Kate sat down against it as Cass dropped her traveling pack and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and plopped down next to her. She unscrewed the cap and took a long drink before offering it to Kate who held up her hand to decline. 

"So, you pick that man up off the side of the road or...?"

"Been traveling together since the Outpost. We're headed North towards Vegas."

"Ah. So you two...?" Kate made an obscene gesture with her hands and Cass had to bite back a laugh. 

"No, no. You know how I feel about sleeping with the people I travel with." 

"What you mean by that is you're afraid of letting things get personal." 

"Yeah, let's not fucking talk about this. Thanks." 

"Mhmm." Kate replied "So how'd you escape that shithole on the border? Did your caravan papers finally come through?"

Cass sighed despondently "No. I sold Cassidy Caravans." 

Kate's eyes shot wide open "You didn't. I thought you were going to take that company name to your grave." she shook here head "I'm sorry it came to that. Who's the buyer?"

"Crimson Caravan." 

"Shoulda figured. They're eager to buy up all the smaller companies operating in the Mojave, and with the war and all those caravans that have been getting hit, most caravaneers are eager to sell. Or get the hell out of the Mojave."  

"What are you and your boys doing?" Cass asked, glancing up at the caravaneers who had returned to their card game. 

"Headed back to NCR." Kate said "We talked it over and decided that the money's just not worth it anymore. Too much danger, and too much competition. If we stay, odds are I'll end up going broke and having to sell, or..."

"Or end up like my people." Cass finished for her. 

"Yeah..." Kate looked over at the guys playing cards "I gotta do what's best for my company." she turned back to Cass "So, what about you kid?"

"Now that I'm no longer trapped at the Outpost I'm gonna find the fuckers who burned my caravan and make them pay." 

"Sounds like a fantastic way to get yourself killed Cass." Kate replied scoldingly "I know you've always preferred to think with your fists instead of your head, but you should really consider letting it go. You're liable to end up like your people."

"You know I can't do that. This is personal." Cass narrowed her eyes gave Riczowsky a hard look. "If it had been your caravan slaughtered instead of mine, do you think _you_  could just fucking 'let it go'?" 

There was a long paused before Kate took a deep breath and sighed "No. I don't think I could. I know nothing I say can change your mind. You've always been as stubborn as a brahmin. But... just be careful. I don't want you getting in over your head. You can't solve every problem by beating it with your fists."

"That's why I have a shotgun." 

"Does he know what he's getting into?" Kate asked, gesturing towards Dinky the Dinosaur. 

"Know what he's getting into? Shit. He's the one who convinced me to do it." 

"Oh? And who the hell is he?" 

She shrugged "A contractor hired by Crimson to convince me to sell to them. I wasn't as accommodating as he'd hoped, so he promised to help track down the killers if I signed the papers." 

"And you trust him at his word?" 

Another shrug "He could've just taken the papers and run any time he liked. He can be a prick sometimes, but he hasn't given me any reason to doubt him yet." 

"Uh-huh. Well, just promise me you'll be careful. I've lost enough friends out here and I don't want to hear about you getting your dumb ass shot off." 

"Oh? So you're my friend now?" Cass laughed. 

Kate pushed herself back to her feet. "Someone has to be. And I'm serious about what I said before. Don't do anything stupid. Try to think with your head instead of your fists for once." She started to walk back towards her own people before she stopped abruptly and turned back to Cass "If you ever find yourself back in California feel free to look me up at the Hub. I'll buy the drinks. Now go find the sons of bitches who've been doing this and kick their teeth in for me."   

Cass glanced down at the whiskey bottle "Will do." she muttered before taking another swig before stuffing it back into her pack and getting back onto her feet. She made her way towards the motel and nodded at the caravaneers still playing cards and one of them nodded back. As she approached the steps up to the general store, the door opened abruptly and Malcolm stepped out followed closely behind by the sniper she'd fucked the last time she was in town. 

"We had a deal. You said you'd clear out the ghouls from the test site. It's been weeks and those ghouls are still there." 

"The terms of the deal don't work for me anymore, Manny." Malcolm said, turning to face the other man when he reached the bottom of the stairs. Manny didn't even seem to notice her. "I found the guy I was looking for without your help. Your information is worthless." 

"How did...?" Manny shook his head "Look. I get that the information's no good, but we'd be eternally grateful if you did the town this favor."

Malcolm shook his head "Gratitude doesn't buy ammo. It doesn't buy food, or water, or stims. If you want me to put my ass on the line for Novac, I'm going to need some incentive."  

Manny groaned "How much?" 

"A thousand caps." 

"You've gotta be shitting me!" Manny exclaimed "Convincing a few crazy ghouls to leave REPCONN sure as hell isn't worth a thousand caps." 

"Normally it wouldn't. But you failed to mention the ferals and Nightkin that have decided to take up residence too." 

"Nightkin? Shit!" he muttered "What the hell are Nightkin doing there?" 

Malcolm shrugged "I have no idea. But I scoped the place out the last time I was here and found a few mutie corpses in the yard with a bunch of your ghouls. From what I could tell, it looks like the Nightkin attacked them." 

"Fuck." he sighed, and ran his hand down over his face. "Jeannie May always handled the contractors, but she's still missing. I don't know if I have the authority to pay you for your work." 

"Then find me someone who does." 

Manny paused for a moment, lost in thought. "Let me talk to Cliff and Andy, we'll make sure you get compensated, but a thousand caps is too much. The town just can't afford it." 

"I think you can." Malcolm replied simply, with a smug grin crossing his lips. "With the I-15 closed down a lot of traffic passes through Novac to and from California and ever since the Legion wiped Nipton off the map this is the only settlement between NCR and Vegas. Anybody who wants a place to stay for the night, a cold drink, or some supplies to the road has to stop here. Honestly, I think those Deathclaws did your town a pretty big favor by moving into that quarry. Honestly, with all that extra revenue I don't know why you still even care about that old broken down pre-war ruin. Unless you're worried about the ferals overrunning the town." 

Manny looked like he wanted to strangle Malcolm and his mustached lip began to twitch, but he took a deep breath to calm down. "I'll get you your money. But I want this job done immediately. No walking away like you did last time. You leave, you don't get a single cap. Got it?" 

"Sure thing." 

"Good." As Manny moved to turn back to the dinosaur, his eyes met Cass' for just a brief second and his face turned as red as the inside of a brahmin. Without so much as a nod of greeting he hurried back up the stairs, pulled open the door and slammed it shut behind him. 

"You two have a history?" Malcolm asked looking over at her with a smirk on his face.

"Nope." 

"Sure you don't. So, you up for a detour?" 


	6. Stitching Up Wounds

"Fucking Hell." Cass groaned, stretching her arms above her head, the vertebrae in her back cracking audibly as she, Malcolm, and Chris Haversam passed Novac's sign through the gate into the motel complex. Most of the town was outside in the motel yard talking excitedly, now doubt about the flying hunks of 200 year old pre-war scrap metal that had gone roaring over their heads less than an hour ago. The sun was already beginning to set and they'd have to hunker down here for the night. "I've seen a lot of weird shit in my years in the caravan business, but those ghouls take the fucking cake. I honestly can't believe those idiots weren't all blown to hell when we launched the rockets." 

"All that time they were just _using_ me for their 'Great Journey'." Chris grumbled miserably. The balding man looked like a puppy who had just lost his owner and didn't know what to do with himself. "Jason and the others played me like a fool. How could I not see it?"

"Maybe because you never bothered to look in a fucking mirror, you dumbass." Cass taunted. "That should have given you a pretty clear sign that you weren't a goddamn ghoul. That, and the fact that you still have your skin! But _fuck_ , that Jason was a real piece of work. Almost makes the shit No-Bark spouts sound sane." 

Malcolm groaned, putting pressure on a bloody bandage wrapped around his midriff where a Nightkin had shot him. Luckily for him the bullet had passed right through without hitting bone, organs, or any major blood vessels. Didn't make it hurt any less though. "I just want to put this whole shit-show behind me." he grunted through gritted teeth when he moved his arm the wrong way. "Chris, go talk to Cliff Briscoe in the dinosaur. He'll set you up with a place to stay, at least for now." he turned to Cass "Let's find Manny and get our fucking money." 

It was Manny who found them followed by Ranger Andy and the other sniper whose name escaped Cass at the moment. As they started walking towards Dinky, the three of them came out of Andy's Bungalow which sat closest to the dinosaur. Manny ignored Cass and Chris, heading straight for Malcolm. "What the hell was that?" the sniper demanded, gesturing wildly towards the sky in the general direction of REPCONN. 

"I got rid of those ghouls like you asked." Malcolm replied coolly, shrugging lightly so not to agitate the wound in his side any further.

"I didn't mean scare the town half to death!" more angry gesturing "What happened?" 

"Well, it turns out the ghouls weren't just squatting on your scrap yard because of its real estate value." Malcolm started "Apparently they wanted to 'escape the anti-ghoul racism and bigotry of the wasteland' by hopping on some ancient pre-war rockets and launching themselves into space in order to find a better life." 

"You can't be serious." Andy sighed "I knew those ghouls were... off. But that's downright batshit insane." 

"You're telling me?" Malcolm grimaced in pain before regaining his composure "Well, the only ways to get rid of them were to help them with their idiotic plan or shoot them all, and we were starting to run low on ammo after fighting through all those fucking ferals and Nightkin infesting the place."

"Did you find out what they were there for?" Manny asked "Could we expect another attack?"

"Stealth Boys." Cass replied "They dumb fucks somehow learned that a pre-war shipment was sent to the place, but what they didn't know was that they'd been moved somewhere else before the bombs fell." 

"You got rid of them all?" Andy asked, shifting his gaze between Malcolm and Cass, a frown creasing his brow.

"It's kinda hard to tell with monsters that can turn invisible. But yeah, pretty sure we got them all." 

"Then Novac owes you a great debt. Andy can set up salvage teams to clean the place up and get back to work first thing in the morning." Manny started, producing two large cloth pouches, which he handed over to Cass, somewhat reluctantly. "It took a bit of scraping the bottom of the barrel, but here's everything that was promised. The full thousand caps." 

"Appreciate it." Cass said, stuffing the bags into her traveling bag. "The place was a real bitch to clear out. Spent most of our ammo on those fucking Nightkin. The big bastards never go down easy and they almost always get the drop on you."

"Something I learned the hard way." Malcolm grunted, looking down at his bloody flank. A red stain had soaked its way through the white cloth and was spreading. Cass had dumped some of her whiskey on the wound to clean it so it wouldn't get infected. The bandaging was hasty and not tight enough to slow the flow of blood. The wound would need stitches. Malcolm had refused to use one of their few stimpaks on something he considered a minor injury. 

"You should get that looked at." The sniper with the sunglasses spoke up for the first time. His voice was flat and indifferent, his expression impossible to tell behind his sunglasses with his mouth seemingly fixated into a permanent scowl. 

"Yeah, Doctor Straus should be around here somewhere." Ranger Andy agreed "She should get you patched up in no time." 

"It's fine Boone. It's only a flesh wound. I've got a medical kit in my pack. Just need to get it cleaned and sewed up." Malcolm replied before adding under his breath so that only Cass could hear " _Besides, Straus doesn't know her ass from her elbow."_

"What was that?" Andy asked, frowning under the brim of his ranger hat.

"Nothing."

* * *

They were given a room for the night on the second floor of the motel complex free of charge. It had a single small bed. A couch against the wall beneath a boarded up window beside the door. Opposite of the bed was a dresser with a broken TV. A number of different containers for storage adorned the room as well. On the far side of the room from the door was a bathroom with a sink and toilet. Though it did have running water, it was irradiated and unsafe to drink. The floor was covered with a musty crimson carpet that reeked of mildew and age. From the ceiling hung a single light bulb attached to a working wire, providing the room with dim but workable lighting. 

Cass pushed through the doorway first, tossing her bag onto the couch and plopping down on the seat. She pulled off her straw hat, boots and socks before stretching her legs and gave a contented sigh as she gave her bare toes room to wiggle and breath. She flipped the on switch of the radio that sat on a nightstand next to the bed and the melody of Bing Crosby's _"Something's Gotta Give"_ filled the room. Malcolm tossed his pack onto the bed and pushed across the room, left hand still clutching at the wound in his side. He grabbed an empty chair and pulled it over to the foot of the bed, directly under the light. After digging through his pack for a few seconds he produced a bottle of water, a roll of clean bandages, and a doctor's bag from which he pulled a spool of thread, some antiseptic spray, a pair of tweezers, a needle, and a syringe of Med-X. Cass watched as he unstrapped the Pip-Boy from his wrist and tossed it next to the bag, gingerly unwrapped the bloody bandage from his waist before stripping out of his leather armor and pulling off his shirt and tossing them to the side. The wound wasn't deep, the bullet had only grazed him but fresh blood continued to flow freely. Malcolm tore off a piece of bandage and poured some of the water on it to use as a cloth to clean the blood from the wound before spraying it with the antiseptic. He hissed in pain through gritted teeth as the foul smelling liquid did its work. 

"It's a good thing the carpet's red." he joked with a halfhearted laugh choked with pain "Nobody'll notice the blood stains."

Cass couldn't just sit by and watch anymore. She stood up, pulling off her leather jacket and unbuttoned her blouse, leaving herself only in her white tank top and jeans and walked over to him. "I doubt you're the first person who's bled in this place." she frowned as he picked up the needle and spool of thread. "Are you really going to stitch it up yourself?"

"What? It's not like I've never done it before. It's important skill to know when you're on the road with no doctors around." 

"And with Straus being the only doctor in town, you figured it'd be best to take a chance and do it yourself?" 

"You're damn right." he laughed, sticking his tongue out in concentration as he tried to thread the needle unsuccessfully. "She doesn't even sterilize her medical equipment. I'd probably end up dead from an infection." He growled in frustration, he brow creased as he tried again to get the threat through the needle's loophole. Cass reached out and took them from his hands.

"Let me do it. You're making yourself look like a dumbass." 

"You know how to sew a wound shut?" 

"You weren't the only one who's spent a lot of fucking time on the road. Remember?" Cass retorted "I've stitched up more than my fair share of bullet holes. I know what I'm doing." 

Malcolm frowned, eyeing her suspiciously before he relented with a shrug "Well your hands aren't any filthier than mine and this angle's kinda awkward for me. So have at it." He grabbed the syringe of Med-X from the bed and injected some of it just above the wound to dull the pain. Cass pushed the thread through the needle's loophole and tied it off before kneeling down at Malcolm's side.

"Move your arm." she commanded, and he lifted his left arm above his head, leaving the wound open. She inspected it before taking Malcolm's cloth and dabbing away the fresh blood from the wound. "The bullet pushed some of the fabric from your shirt into the wound." Cass said, picking up the tweezers Malcolm had grabbed "If I leave it in there when I stitch you up it'll get infected." Malcolm nodded, and moved his hand back to the wound, pushing it open. With great care Cass began pulling out the little bits of cloth that had gotten lodged inside him when the bullet has grazed his torso.  

"That's all of it." Cass said, wiping the tweezers off with a piece of cloth. She wiped the blood away again and took up the needle and thread gazing down at the clean gash in his side.

"You have an astonishingly delicate touch when you're sober." Malcolm said with a toothy grin. "I wouldn't mind finding out what else you could do with those hands of yours, Beautiful." 

 _Would you now? Well, here, let me show you_. She jabbed the needle through his flesh, hard enough that she knew that he'd feel it, even through the numbness brought on by the Med-X. He winced visibly in pain and clamped his jaws together to keep from crying out. "Oops, my delicate hands must have slipped." Cass said with an faux apologetic smile. 

"Yeah... I deserved that one. Sorry." Malcolm choked out through the pain, attempting to smile but only managing to grimace. 

"Apology accepted. Now shut the fuck up and let me finish." 

It took some time, but Cass finally finished stitching up the wound. She disinfected the needle, stuffed the medical supplies back into the doctor's kit. Then she sat back on her haunches, wiping the blood from her hands with a wet cloth, and appraised her handiwork. "Well, it ain't pretty, but it should hold." she smirked "As long as you don't do anything stupid, which might be challenge for you." 

Malcolm got to his feet, taking great care as he stood not to pull on the sutures that held the tear in his flesh together. A genuine smile that touched his hazel eyes crossed his lips. "That's some good work, a lot better than I could have done. Thanks Beautiful. You're one in a million." he grabbed a fresh black t-shirt from his bag that wasn't covered in his blood and pulled it down over his head gingerly. "Which means something, because I'm not sure there's even a million people left out there."

Cass rolled her eyes "Keep pushing your luck and there'll be one less." she looked around the room "We should stay here for a couple days. Let that thing heal a bit before we move on. I don't want the stitches tearing out and that bullet hole reopening." 

"So you do care." Malcolm faked a gasp, not even bothering to hide his smirk. "You're concern for my well being is touching. I must really be growing on you."

"Yeah, growing on me like a tumor." she retorted "And don't get the wrong idea. I need you alive because you promised to help me track down the fuckers who've been burning caravans. I'm not gonna let you get out of it by bleeding to death on me." 

"I haven't forgotten." Malcolm responded, grabbing his Pip-Boy and strapping it to his left wrist. He flipped a switch and the personal computing device switched on. Gathering up his torn and bloody shirt and the used bandaged, he walked over to te other side of the room and dumped them into the waste-bin that sat against the wall. He then dug into the pockets of his khakis for his carton of cigarettes and flip lighter, side-stepped around Cass and pulled open the door to the motel room, stepping out into the night air and closing it behind him.

Cass got back to her feet and stretched, groaning in satisfaction as her muscled loosened before walking over to the couch and taking a seat next to the old radio.  _Ain't that a Kick in the Head_ by Dean Martin was playing over Radio New Vegas, and she took a moment to close her eyes. The whole day had been one massive pain in the ass. One moment she had been catching up with an old friend, and the next Malcolm was dragging her into a ghoul and mutant infested pre-war ruin to help a bunch of nutjob cultists launch themselves on a suicide mission into space on 200 year old rockets that were more likely to explode than enter orbit. Easily one of the weirdest experiences of her life. She undid her hair, usually kept in a tight bun to keep it out of her eyes and let the auburn locks fall to her shoulders. Maybe she was too hard on him. Not that he didn't deserve it sometimes, but he knew what he was doing. He was quick with his gun and was a damn fine shot. They'd had a small competition to see which one of them could kill the most ferals and he'd beaten her by a long shot with that stupid looking 9mm of his. The basement had been tough. Cass had always hated small, tight spaces, she'd heard somebody call it claustrophobia, or something like that. It wasn't enough to make her have panic attack, but she always felt uneasy, like the walls or ceiling could collapse on her at any moment, which was logical, abandoned pre-war ruins weren't exactly the most structurally stable places, and the air seemed so thick that she'd found it difficult to breath. Malcolm hadn't laughed, or belittled her fears. He'd been understanding and reassuring. The worst of it was that she couldn't help but feel it had been her fault that he'd been shot. She'd let her guard down for just a moment, and a Nightkin had gotten the drop on them. Sure, it'd been his suggestion that they do they job, but she hadn't objected. The thousand caps had sounded too good to give up. 

All of a sudden the walls seemed to close in around her, and the room felt much smaller than it really was. She needed to get some air. Hastily, she stumbled to her feet throwing on her leather jacket and pulled on her boots before practically shoving the door open and throwing herself outside. Malcolm was seated right next to the door and got his hand up just in time to keep it from smacking him in the face as it flew open. 

"Easy!" he cried, pushing the door closed as she leaned against the railing and looked down on the motel yard below. "I think I've been hurt enough already today. I don't need a bloody nose too." 

"Shit! Sorry. I just... needed some air." 

"Seems like it." he paused "You alright?" 

"Fine." she looked down at him and noticed an empty chair beside his. In between was an ashtray with two spent cigarettes. A third sat comfortably between his teeth, a thin wisp of white smoke wafting up through the air. She walked over and lowered herself down into the seat next to him. "I'm just stressed." Without a word he offered up the box of cigarettes. Cass hesitated for a moment before taking one. She stuck it between her lips and Malcolm leaned over to light it. She sucked in the smoke and held it for a moment before blowing it out through pursed lips. For a while they just sat there smoking, listening to the sounds of the night. 

Cass spoke first "You know what I just realized?"

"Enlighten me." 

"I still don't know jack shit about you." 

Malcolm shrugged, taking a drag from his cigarette "You never asked." 

"No, I haven't, have I?" There was another lengthy pause as they gazed out into the darkness before them. A light flicked on in the middle bungalow in the yard below. Cass could see shadows moving on the inside through the curtains before the light shut off again. In the room to their left she could hear hushed whispers and a low feminine giggle followed by a sharp gasp. Cass pursed her lips and sucked on the cigarette. She pulled it from her mouth and blew the smoke from her lungs before turning her gaze to Malcolm. 

"So. You from any place in particular?"

"California." he put out the cigarette in the ashtray "Grew up on a ranch a ways south of NCR, the city, not the country." 

"Farm boy huh?" Cass asked, genuinely surprised. Nothing about him spoke 'rancher' to her. "Wouldn't have guessed it." 

"Most people don't. Probably because I know how to read and speak properly." he shrugged. "Honestly, there aren't a whole lot of opportunities for education out in the country. I lucked out in that regard." he paused for a moment, contemplating his words "Or maybe not. After all, ignorance is bliss." 

Cass spat between her boots. "What a load of shit. Ain't nothing blissful about closing your eyes, shoving your head in the dirt and telling yourself everything's right in the world while you get fucked in the ass. Personally I'd rather keep my head above ground and my eyes open. I want to know what the hell's going on so if I get fucked, it'll be on my terms." 

Malcolm laughed "That's one way of looking at life." 

"It's worked for me so far." Cass looked down at her hands, the cigarette still seated between her fingers, burned down to a stub. She put it out in the ashtray and got to her feet. "Well, now we've got a thousand caps to blow on whatever the fuck we want. Wanna get drunk?" 


	7. Three's a Crowd

Cass drifted back to consciousness, her head screaming at her in protest, as it had countless mornings before. It seemed like she was in a perpetual state of piss drunkenness or head splitting hangover. When she tried opening her eyes, she found her right swollen shut and painful to touch. Bit by bit she regained a bearing on her surroundings. It took her a moment to recognize the motel room she and Malcolm shared in Novac. The place reeked of booze and vomit, which rarely came as a surprise to the former caravaneer. The events of the previous night were little more than a jumbled blur in her mind, flashes of incoherent images. She remembered returning to the little shantytown after clearing the REPCONN Test Site, and stitching up Malcolm's bullet wound, but not much afterwards. 

She eased herself up off her sleeping mat on the floor to look around. Besides herself and their traveling packs, the room was empty. That didn't surprise her either. Malcolm was the early riser of the two after all. Still wearing the same clothes from last night, she pushed herself to her feet and staggered on shaky legs over to her pack and quickly changed into something that stunk less of vomit and stale booze. Light poured through the holes in the moth eaten curtains over the window. Bracing herself for what came next, she turned the door handle and pulled it open.

Needles of pain jabbed into her skull through her eye sockets, and she gasped at the pain, buckling under the barrage of sunlight, raising a bare hand to shield her eyes from the relentless onslaught. A weak laugh caught her attention and she looked down the second floor walkway towards the sound. Malcolm sat slouched in a chair a few feet away down near the stairs not looking nearly as shit as she felt. A lit cigarette hung loosely between his fingers. 

"'Morning Sleeping Beauty." he teased cheerfully taking a pull from the tobacco "Looking lovely as ever."

"Not so loud, asshole." Cass growled, half walking, half staggering towards him, keeping one hand on the balcony's railing for balance. I wasn't until she got close that she noticed the man sitting next to Malcolm. The shaved headed sniper with the beret, sunglasses and shitty attitude. The man, Boone she remembered, gave her little more than a cursory glance before returning his unblinking gaze straight ahead East across the Mojave desert raising his own cigarette to his lips. Malcolm gestured wordlessly to a third empty seat next to him, motioning for Cass to sit. She accepted the offer and sunk down deeply into the chair, trying to ignore the hammering in her skull.

"That's one hell of a shiner." he observed, gesturing to her face "Boone and I were just catching up." Malcolm said and reached down next to him and picked up a ceramic mug off the table and handed it to Cass. She looked down at the dark liquid with an uncertain gaze before turning back to Malcolm.

"What's this?" she asked, sitting up in her seat. 

"200 year old coffee." he replied, blowing the smoke out his nose and shifting in the chair "Tastes like death, but it's always done me wonders for hangovers." 

Gingerly, she raised the mug to her lips, taking a moment to smell its contents. It smelled bitter like everything else there was the drink out in the wastes. She was more than accustomed to foul tasting drinks, and if this coffee could get rid of her hangover, it'd be worth it. She tipped the mug towards her mouth and the moment the coffee touched her tongue she knew what Malcolm was talking about. She swallowed the gulp as quickly as she could and handed the mug back to her companion, trying to suppress a gag. 200 year old cold coffee drank black had to be one of  _the_ worst things she'd ever tasted. The effects were quick to set in though. It didn't do shit for the headache, but she felt more awake, lively. Her mind started to clear a bit and the sunlight stopped boring holes through her eyes. She sighed contentedly and leaned back into the chair. 

"Not so bad once you get past the aftertaste." Malcolm joked with a half smile. He doused the cigarette in the ashtray beside him and lit up another one.

"So, uhhh... What the hell happened last night?" Cass asked, gesturing to the black eye

"You got punched in the face." Malcolm replied simply.

"Yeah, not shit. I was wondering why I got punched in the face." 

"You drank too much at the bar. Got pissed at some trader who you accused of cheating at a game of Caravan. You punched him, he punched you back. A fight started. A few bar stools were broken, some bottles were smashed. In the end his friends dragged him out and the barkeep threw you out on your ass and I had to carry you back up to the room after you vomited all over my shirt." 

"And you didn't even try to stop the fight?" 

"You're a very angry drunk." Malcolm replied with a shrug "I didn't want to get in the middle of it and break my sutures. I'd rather not have 'bled to death in a seedy bar' engraved on my tombstone." he laughed heartily "Besides, watching two people who were so hammered they could barely stand try to fist fight was way too fucking funny." 

Cass made a dismissive sound then paused, "What were the damages?" 

"Just a bit over 350 caps. Plus I bought a round for everybody at the bar as an apology for your uh... short temper." he shrugged "I woulda tried to make some of it back in a card game, but you've shown me just how shit I am at Caravan." 

"Good thing one of us was thinking clearly." Cass grumbled, rubbing her eyes. "Sorry about that. That was all on me." 

"Yeah, it was. But don't worry about it too much. Nobody got hurt... badly." he smiled "However you are now persona non grata at the Novac Tavern." 

"Wouldn't be the bar I've been kicked out of." Cass replied before changing the subject. "How are your stitches holding up?"

"Well enough. Wound's still not healed all the way, but I ain't bleeding everywhere, so that's an improvement". He put his cigarette out in the ashtray and pushed himself to his feet. As he stood, Cass noticed the 9mm handgun holstered in his belt. The trophy he'd taken from a Casino boss worn openly. "Gotta take a piss."

"Outhouse is outside the gate and to the right. Head around the back of the Motel, you'll see it." Boone directed, taking a drag out of his cigarette.

"Yeah, got it." Malcolm replied already at the top of the stairs and on his way down. "Be back in a minute." 

That left the two of them alone. Separated by an empty chair and a small metal corner table. Boone made no acknowledgement of her presence, continuing his thousand yard stare off into the distance. Cass noticed his scoped bolt action rifle, much like the one Malcolm carried sitting at his side leaning against the wall. Cass hated awkward conversation, but she hated awkward silences even more. 

She brushed an errant strand of her red hair from her face and cleared her throat "So... uh. You two know each other?" 

Boone gave something between a mumble and a grunt in affirmation without turning to look at her. She wasn't sure if she should ask more. The sniper obviously wasn't much of a conversationalist.  When his cigarette died he lit up another one and took a long puff, before easing it out through pursed lips. 

"Could I bum one of those?" Cass asked, pointing towards the half full carton still in his hand. Boone shrugged and held it out to her. She plucked a smoke and held it out for the sniper to light. He obliged and to Cass it seemed like some of the tension was lifted from the air. She couldn't help but wonder if the sniper remembered her from the few times she'd passed through Novac during her caravaning trips. It wasn't hard to tell that the two of them had virtually nothing in common aside from being from the NCR. Well, almost nothing. She had a dozen questions but with somebody like him who knows what might piss him off. If she was going to make conversation, she'd have to go the safe route. Basic questions only.

"You're from NCR?"

Another affirmative grunt. 

"Same. What town?"

"Doubt you've heard of it." 

"Try me." 

The First Recon sharpshooter shrugged "Small town called White Plains, nor-"

"-North of the Hub." Cass finished "Passed through it a few time traveling to the big city. Farming community if my memory's correct." 

Boone's lip twitched into something that almost resembled a smile. "Ranching actually. But your memory serves you well."

"At least when I'm sober." Cass replied with a small chuckle that the sniper did not return. There was another bout of silence, but with the uncomfortable tension broken, it was far more bearable. Cass was just about to ask for another cigarette when Malcolm returned, making his way down the walkway and planting himself back down in his chair. 

"I miss anything?" 

"Nope." Boone replied, getting to his feet "I'm going to turn in." 

"Alright Boone. It was good talking with you again." Malcolm said getting to his feet and shaking the sniper's hand. "If I don't see you again before we head out, take care of yourself."

"Sure." Boone grunted and dropped Malcolm's hand. He turned, made his way down the stairs and disappeared from view. 

"A real fucking chatterbox, isn't he?" Cass mused once Boone was out of sight. 

"That's just Boone for you." Malcolm said with a shrug "Didn't talk much when we traveled together either." 

"With that upbeat demeanor and charming personality its a wonder you went your separate ways." Cass replied sarcastically. 

He shrugged again "Boone's one hell of a soldier, but he has issues. Perfectly understandable issues, but issues all the same. There were some things we don't exactly see eye to eye on, so I sent him back here." 

"What was it you disagreed on." 

"He wants to put a bullet through every Legionnaire he sees. I want to stay off of Caesar's hit list."  

"And it'd be nothing less than those fucks deserved, but doesn't that seem a little... suicidal?"

"He has his reasons, and it's not my place to blurt them out for everybody to hear." Malcolm replied "But if I ever decide to start my own personal war against the Legion, he'll be the first man I talk to." 

"As long as you don't go dragging me into that shit show, talk to him all you like." Cass said with an easy smile. 

"Damn, you would have been my second choice." he sighed. 

She laughed "Well... maybe I could be convinced if you got me drunk enough. Those slaving, womanizing sacks of brahmin shit deserve to get a real hard kick in the sack." 

"I'll keep that in mind." 

 * * * 

The 188 Trading Post was no busier than Cass was accustomed to when she passed through the area, which was to say it was packed. A platoon of NCR troopers, whom she guessed were returning to their posts from leave on the Strip, sat at the scatter of picnic tables that surrounded the little bar and restaurant on the near end of the bridge eating lunch. The young woman and her father who co-ran the place were wiping down the counter with a piece of cloth. Apart from the soldiers and the owners, the only other person there was a girl in tattered brown robes and a raised hood who was enthusiastically slurping down a bowl of noodles. Far out in the distance, Cass could see the walls of Vegas standing tall against the horizon with the Lucky 38 Casino towering above all like a needle stabbing the clouds. Vegas was an awe inspiring sight for people who had never seen a city of its like, and there were so few that remained. 

"You find us a place to sit and I'll get some lunch?" Malcolm asked.

"Sure. See if she has any Mac n' Cheese." Cass replied

"You got it." And with that he turned and strode off toward the bar while Cass ducked between the packed tables, looking for an open place to sit. It didn't take long for Cass to see that the only open table that wasn't stocked ass to ass with soldier boys was the one with the brown robed girl. Not that she had any problem with meeting strangers. Being a people person was pretty much a given requirement when trying to get into the caravan business. As she approached the table, the girl looked up and gave her a weak smile.

"Hey uh... these seats taken?" Cass asked, knowing damn well that they weren't but it was polite to ask. 

"Hm? Oh, no." she replied quickly "You can sit here if you want."

"Thanks." Cass unslung her pack from her shoulders and eased down onto the partially rotted wood of the bench which creaked under her weight. "The name's Cass."

"I'm Veronica." she paused, twirling her fork through her bowl of noodles idly. "So, what brings you to the Trading Post?" 

"Got business up north near Vegas." she replied "You?"

"Oh, you know, just doing a supply run for my family." she gave a small laugh "Somebody's gotta bring home the groceries." 

"Groceries, huh?" 

"Yeah. They-" Veronica stopped, looking over Cass' shoulder. Cass turned around to see Malcolm smiling as he stepped around the occupied tables with a bowl in each hand. 

"Well, look at you making new friends." he took his seat next to Cass and handed her the bowl of Mac n' Cheese she'd requested. "Quite the step up from starting drunken brawls with complete strangers, don't you think?" 

"Are you ever going to drop that?" 

"Nope." he fixed his gaze on Veronica and extended a hand across the table "I'm Malcolm." 

"Veronica." she replied, shaking his hand. "Cass told me the two of you are headed to Vegas on business." 

"Yeah." 

"Must be some pretty important business." Veronica replied "You guys look like you've traveled a long way down some pretty bad roads. Where'd you come from?"

"Mojave Outpost." Cass answered "Been headed north on the road for a few days now, but took a detour at Novac and got hung up there a couple days." 

"Wow, you have come a long way. It's been ages since I was last in California." 

"So, what's a young lady like you doing out here by yourself?" Malcolm asked, taking a bite out of his own bowl of noodles.

"Like I was telling Cass, I'm out here scavenging for my family." 

"Alone? That doesn't seem very safe, or efficient." Malcolm replied curiously. 

"It's better this way, really." Veronica shrugged "Too many people attracts too much attention. Attention brings its own danger." 

"Like the Fiends, or Legion?" 

"Uh, yeah. Lotta raiders out there looking for some easy pickings. You can never take too many precautions to stay safe." 

"If it's so dangerous, why are you out here and not helping to protect your family?"

"Let's say that they can take care of themselves just fine." Veronica explained, "And these days, I think they'd rather have me out here anyways. But that's a whole other story." 

Before Malcolm could reply a strong voice called out from behind him. "Alright ladies, break's over! It's time to toss your trash and stow your packs! We're moving out!" Immediately, every NCR trooper at the trading post hopped to their feet, forming a single file line to drop their dirty dishes off with the woman running the little cafe. Then their lieutenant herded them into a marching formation and just like that they were off down the road towards Boulder City. Cass noticed that Veronica's eyes didn't leave them until they'd disappeared from view, but once they had she turned back to her.

"So, listen, can I ask you something on a level?"

Cass frowned and looked over at Malcolm who shrugged "Sure, I guess." 

"I had a run in with this group calling themselves the Brotherhood of Steel. Pretty strange bunch. Do you know anything about them?"

Cass snorted. "Bunch of reclusive whackjobs with their heads so far up their own asses they couldn't see daylight. But they never bothered anybody until NCR decided to shove its dick in their business." 

"Ooookay." Veronica drew the word out, and turned to Malcolm "What about you?"

"Other than their strange fetish for lasers and power armor, can't say I know much about them. I don't hold any sort of grudge again'st 'em, they've never bothered me." 

"Yeah, I'm not surprised. They tend to keep to themselves for the most part." she smiled lightly "I'll be honest. The two of you are the first people I've met out here who look like they can really handle themselves. There are places that I've never been to that'd be too dangerous for just me. What do you think? Maybe we could travel together, help each other out."

"Listen kid. We ain't a babysitting service." Cass stated.

"Oh, no no!" Veronica shook her head "You don't need to worry about me. I can pull my own weight, really." 

"What can you do?" Malcolm asked, glancing at Cass with a skeptical look before turning back to the girl in ragged robes. 

"Well, I'm really good at punching things." she replied, holding up a powerfist that was sitting on the bench next to her. "And I'm great at fixing things and putting new things together. No workbench needed. You need ammo or stims, if you've got the materials, I'm your girl." 

"Okay, so you punch things and fix shit. But I need to know if you can keep it together in a fight." Malcolm said "If I have to protect your ass because you blow a fuse while under fire, people will end up getting hurt." 

"I can keep my cool in a fight, trust me." 

"What do you think? Malcolm asked, turning to face Cass "An extra pair of eyes couldn't hurt."

"It depends on the eyes in question." Cass replied "Like I said, we ain't bodyguards. I need to know that I can trust you to cover my ass out there." 

"Hey, I trusted a drunk like you with my life." Malcolm added with a grin.

"That was pisspoor judgment on your part." Cass shot back.

Malcolm shrugged "Less pisspoor judgment, more wanting to get my caps from McLafferty. Supplies aren't cheap and I gotta pay the bills somehow." 

Veronica cleared her throat, snapping Cass' attention back to her. "So...? If I couldn't handle myself in a tight spot, I wouldn't be out here in the first place and not back home instead." 

"I vote yes." Malcolm shrugged, taking a moment to finish off his bowl of noodles. "Give her a shot. If she can't handle it, we can cut her loose, one way or another." 

Cass growled in relent "Fine she can tag along. This merry little band of fuckups and misfits is turning into a regular old caravan, isn't it?"

"Thank you!" Veronica all but squealed "I promise I won't let you down- Oh, and one thing before we get going. I asked about the Brotherhood of Steel before, because I'm one of them. We've made a lot of enemies out here and I needed to know how you would react." 

Cass let out her breath in a slow and irritable sigh.  _Wonderful._


	8. On the Hunt

After they finished eating, Malcolm went down below the overpass to speak with the Gun Runners merchant that had set up shop at the 188. It took a bit of smooth talking and a deep knowledge of firearms to convince the stubborn man to open up his stock for sale, but Malcolm managed to buy himself a telescopic sight for his hunting rifle as well as several magazines of ammunition at a discount. Though Cass wouldn't admit it to his face, she was impressed with his haggling skills. Gun Runner weapons were pricey, but top of the line with no true competitor this side of the Colorado. They took security with the utmost seriousness. One time she had heard that they even booby-trapped their caravans with explosives, so that any attempt at theft would destroy the shipment as well as any dumbass stupid enough to try and rob them. 

For a girl who'd spent most of her life locked up in an underground bunker with a bunch of xenophobic technofanatics, Veronica was surprisingly personable, and it wasn't long before she and Malcolm struck up a conversation as they continued on towards Vegas side by side. 

"So, what you're telling me is that you got shot in the head and not only survived, but seem to be perfectly functional." 

"Calling him 'perfectly functional' is being a little generous, don't you think?" Cass commented from behind them, laying her shotgun across her shoulders. 

"Twice." Malcolm corrected, ignoring Cass' comment completely. "I got shot in the head twice." He lifted up his bangs to show Veronica an ugly looking surgical scar that was hidden just below the hairline. He dropped his dark hair back into place and reached into the front pocket of his cargo pants for his pack of cigarettes and lighter. He placed a cigarette between his teeth before offering the box to Veronica. The Brotherhood Scribe looked down at it inquisitively for a moment before shaking her head.

"Uhh, no thanks. I don't smoke." 

Malcolm shrugged and held the pack back over his shoulder toward Cass. Without a word she snagged one and Malcolm pocketed the pack again then lit his and Cass' before continuing on. It was another hour before they began to pass between the abandoned buildings that formed the outskirts of outer Vegas They passed a Repconn building with a few malfunctioning Mr. Handys milling about outside the doors. The old pre-war bots seemed content to let things be, so the travelers returned the favor and continued on without incident. 

"Well, now you guys know about my family." Veronica started "What about you? Where are you from?" 

"Born and raised in Vault City." Cass replied and jerked her thumb towards Malcolm. "This one's a born and raised farmboy. Though you could probably tell by the stench." 

"Brahmin rancher." Malcolm corrected again. "There's a difference. We didn't grow any crops." 

Cass shrugged "Whatever." 

"How did a city girl and a rancher end up out here?" Veronica asked as they walked. 

"I could ask the same about the Brotherhood of Steel." Malcolm replied, swiftly causing Cass to raise her eyebrows at Malcolm's deflection of Veronica's question back on her. "I heard about the fight at Helios. I can't imagine why your leader thought it was a good idea to hole up in an abandoned power plant in the middle of one of the heaviest concentrations of NCR troops outside of California." 

"Yeah..." Veronica shifted her gaze to the asphalt at her feet. "I wonder that myself." 

"You mean you don't know why you were at Helios?" Cass asked, disbelievingly. 

"I wasn't there personally when it hit the fan." Veronica told her "Our Elder, Elijah, wasn't very open with us. He kept a lot hidden from our Chapter, but the Codex demanded that we follow his orders regardless. He said Helios was important and that we had to hold onto it at any cost. So we did, and we ended up losing half our Chapter _and_ Helios in a single battle." 

"That's insane."Cass muttered "Why the hell would anybody follow that bastard's suicidal orders?"

"Because that's how things are, and always have been in the Brotherhood." Veronica sighed "We're traditionalists. People who try to go against the Codex don't succeed in doing much more than making a bunch of new enemies out of old friends." 

None of them spoke after that. They continued on in silence until Malcolm finally spoke up as they approached an abandoned warehouse. "We're getting close to the caravan wreck now. Keep your eyes open, this is right on the border of Fiend territory." 

"What's this about a caravan wreck?" Veronica asked.

"We're investigating caravan attacks that have been occurring across the Mojave." Malcolm explained. "We're going to find out who's been doing it and kill them." 

"Oh..." Was all Veronica managed to conjure as a response.

As they crested the next hill, Cass froze, and jaw clenched so tight that if she squeezed any harder she might have shattered her teeth. There right below them in the middle of the roads was the ruins of her caravan. The broken, badly decomposed corpse of their pack brahmin Jasmine was the only body among the wreckage. It had been weeks since she had heard the news of the attack. She had thought she had made peace with the reality, now that she had a new focus, but seeing it for herself brought all the anger and sorrow hurtling back. She pushed past Malcolm and Veronica with slow trudging footsteps that took her closer and closer to what little remained of a lifetime of hard work. Her hands trembled with raw fury around her caravan shotgun as the names and faces of her partners flashed through her mind. The rangers had told her that their bodies had been burned to ash along with the cargo. There wouldn't be anything left to bury. Without hesitation, she began scanning the scene, pushing the images of her dead friends from her mind. She needed to find a clue, a lead. Anything that would help her find the gutless bastards who did this. 

Distantly, she could hear Malcolm and Veronica sharing a hushed conversation. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but she didn't care. A moment later she felt a presence behind her, and a comforting hand on her shoulder. The feeling nearly made her turn and sock him in the gut. "Do you need a minute?" Malcolm asked, he gave her shoulder a light squeeze, his voice low and unusually gentle. 

"No."

"Take one anyways." he said. "Veronica and I will look around. You can help when you're ready." 

Reluctantly, she relented and allowed herself to be led to the side of the road and sat down on a rock. Malcolm handed her another cigarette and lit it for her before returning to the caravan where Veronica was studying something closely on the pavement. When Malcolm reached her, she looked up at him. 

"These scorch marks on the road weren't caused by a fire." she said. "This is definitely the work of some high powered laser weaponry." 

"You sure?" Malcolm inquired and Veronica nodded.

"I learned how to dismantle and reassemble an AER9 laser rifle blindfolded before I was old enough to speak in complete sentences." she replied "I've got no doubt about it. The question is who had access to them." 

Malcolm hummed thoughtfully. "I've run into Fiends using laser weapons before. Don't know where they get them from, but they aren't that uncommon." 

"Maybe..." Veronica started "But why wouldn't they steal the cargo? Why burn everything to ash?" 

"Probably because they're all a bunch of psychopaths prone to bouts of chem induced rage." Malcolm replied "'Rational thought' and 'Fiends' rarely go hand in hand." 

Cass had enough of being left out of the investigation. She was more than ready to grow a pair and get to work. She stamped out her cigarette and pushed herself to her feet. "Knowing the weapons used is helpful to narrow down our list of suspects. But there's more to look at here than scorch marks on the ground." she said "They hadn't made camp when they were attacked. Which suggests that it happened during the day, and within sight of the walls of Camp McCarran." She pointed to the looming concrete walls and guard towers of the NCR's headquarters in the Mojave a mere several hundred meters away. "That suggests that this was an ambush that took place between guard rotations so not to be noticed. They had to have known the route that my caravan was taking and the time it would be here. Does that sound like the kind of planning that some chemmed out Fiend fuckheads could pull off?" 

"No." Malcolm admitted. "It doesn't." 

"So who does that leave us?" Cass asked.

"The Brotherhood of Steel and the Van Graffs are the only other two groups in the Mojave with ready access to laser based weaponry." Malcolm replied. "I doubt that the Brotherhood would come all the way out here just to knock off some random caravan carrying food and water. Especially with it being so close to McCarran." 

"They wouldn't." Veronica confirmed, almost defensively. 

"But it doesn't make sense for the Van Graffs to risk something like this either. They don't trade anything other than energy weapons. Was your caravan carrying anything like that?" he asked Cass.

"No." Cass replied, her eyes scanning the wreckage, looking for anything that might be useful. "We were never competing with the Van Graffs. 

"We need to find more evidence. But I don't see anything else here that could help us ID the perpetrators." Malcolm said. 

"I heard about another Caravan on the otherside of Vegas." Cass said "Got hit not too long after mine. Might've been the same people who hit mine. Might be some more clues there, but it's a long walk." 

Malcolm nodded "Could be worth checking out. But it'll have to wait until tomorrow. The sun's getting ready to go down and I don't want to get caught out in Fiend territory when it does." he glanced up towards Vegas. "I got a place on the Strip we can stay in for the night. We'll head out again first thing in the morning." 


End file.
